Paragraph 175
by rubyliss
Summary: Kurt discovers that Karofsky's hatred has its roots in something that happened between their families during the Holocaust.  The title refers to the German law that made homosexuality a crime.
1. Chapter 1

**Story:** Paragraph 175

**By:** Ruby Lis

**Pairing:** Kurt/Karofsky, set after "Never Been Kissed". Possibly slightly AU as I don't plan on including Blaine/Dalton.

**Rating:** M for subject matter-language, violence, mental/physical torture (Holocaust), anti-gay slurs.

**Summary:** Kurt discovers that Karofsky's hatred has its roots in something that happened between their families during the Holocaust. The title refers to the German law that made homosexuality a crime.

**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy.

**A/N: **First, I do plan on updating regularly but I can't guarantee a weekly update. Work has been pretty busy. Second, while I did do some basic research, please be patient with me regarding historical/cultural mistakes I may have made. Please PM me and let me know if I have any facts wrong. Thanks!

PART 1

Normally, World History was one of the few classes Dave Karofsky looked forward to. Part of it was the fact his teacher, Mr. Reuben Heigle, addressed everyone formally as Mr. or Miss. The other part was that history was a lot like football with different countries and cultures trying to get the upper hand over each other. He loved the strategy behind world events-reading about cause and effect as the events played out.

The current class assignment was proving particularly interesting. They were supposed to research how world history had affected their personal history. Fascinating.

Until today. Until Kurt Hummel had walked to the front of the class to make his presentation.

Dave Karofsky didn't hate Kurt Hummel because he was gay. Not exactly. He hated Kurt Hummel because he was a Hummel. German. And Karofsky's family was Russian. Maybe Kurt was ignorant of their family histories, but Karofsky wasn't. And he had planned to use this class assignment to finally show Hummel's true colors.

Until Kurt had walked to the front of the class and held up the very photo Karofsky had planned to use for his report.

"-gays imprisoned during the Holocaust. My grandfather, Klaus Hummel, was one of them. This is a photograph from a Russian source showing Klaus as a prisoner." The photo showed two men, one dressed in a German uniform, the other wearing a prisoner's uniform with a pink triangle next to his i.d. number.

"That's not what it says." Karofsky blurted out, surprising himself as well as Kurt.

Kurt placed his hand on his hip and fixed Karofsky with an icy glare. "Really? Since when do you speak Russian?"

"Since I was 5."

Mr. Heigle's eyes brightened with interest. "Mr. Karofsky, would you care to translate for the rest of the class?"

"German soldier Klaus Hummel with homophile prisoner Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp."

"You translated it without even looking at it." Kurt said coldly.

Karofsky shrugged, "It's a photo of my great uncle. It's been in my family for decades."

"Indeed?" Mr. Heigle rocked on his heels as he studied Karofsky, curious about the apparent, unexpected connection between the Hummels and the Karofskys. "What else do you know about your great uncle?"

Karofsky fidgeted, suddenly aware that everyone in the class was looking at him.

"He kept a journal. About stuff that happened during the Holocaust. But it was lost." Karofsky chewed his lip. "We still have some of his letters, though." He shot Kurt a look. "And the photo."

Kurt's cheeks brightened with anger. "My grandfather was not a Nazi!"

Karofsky crossed his arms and scowled. "He's not wearing that uniform for cosplay."

The bell rang, dismissing the World History class for lunch break.

"Mr. Hummel, Mr. Karofsky, a moment, please."

Kurt and Karofsky exchanged a puzzled, unfriendly look then walked over to Mr. Heigle's desk. Mr. Heigle, however, beamed at the two young men. "What an unexpected opportunity!" He took his wire rimmed glasses and absentmindedly polished them on the hem of his shirt. "Mr. Karofsky, you said in class that your great uncle had a journal that was lost after World War II."

"So?"

Mr. Heigle reached for an old, obviously worn journal on his desk. "As part of this class assignment, Mr. Hummel brought this in two days ago and asked if I could translate it for him."

Karofsky's mouth went dry. No freaking way. It couldn't be.

Kurt felt a sudden panic as he saw Mr. Heigle handing the journal to Karofsky. He quickly stepped between them and grabbed the journal just as Karofsky's fingers brushed the cover. Karofsky shot him a furious look.

"Mr. Heigle, with all due respect, this journal is a family heirloom."

"Yeah, my family's!" Karofsky growled.

"You don't know that!" Kurt snapped back.

"Exactly!" Mr. Heigle rubbed his hands together excitedly. "We don't know whose journal it is. If it is your great uncle's journal, how did it come to be in the Hummel family's possession? What we do know is that it's written in Russian."

Kurt glanced at Karofsky out of the corner of his eye. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"And we know that Mr. Karofsky understands Russian." Mr. Heigle held his hand out for the journal. "First, we determine who wrote it, yes?"

Reluctantly, Kurt handed the journal over to Mr. Heigle and watched tensely as it was handed over to Karofsky. Kurt was surprised at the almost reverent way Karofsky handled the leather volume.

Karofsky opened the journal. Silently, he read the first few lines and felt his throat tighten with emotion.

"Karofsky, Nikolai Petrovich." Karofsky looked smug. "Told you it was mine."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Karofsky-" Mr. Heigle smoothly took the journal from Karofsky and handed it back to Kurt. "-ownership will need to be determined by a court of law, not a mere high school teacher."

Kurt quickly slid the journal into his messenger bag. Maybe the journal was written by Nikolai Karofsky, but Kurt wasn't about to hand it over to his great nephew until he knew how and why it had come to be in the Hummel family's possession. If Karofsky had it, Kurt bet he would never see it again.

"I would very much like the two of you to work on this class assignment together."

"I'm in." Karofsky accepted quickly, much to Kurt's surprise.

Mr. Heigle's phone rang and he walk to the other side of the room to take the call.

"What's the matter, Hummel? Don't want the rest of the world to find out your family's a bunch of liars and thieves?" He stepped closer and whispered. "How does it feel knowing your granddad killed people just-" Karofsky poked Kurt in his chest. "-like-" Another poke, harder this time. "-you?"

"How does it feel knowing your great uncle was gay? Just. Like. You." Kurt whispered back.

Karofsky's jaw tightened. "Do not go there!"

Mr. Heigle completed his call and turned back to the two boys.

"So, Mr. Karofsky is in. And you, Mr. Hummel?"

"I need to think about it."

"Good, good. Tell me your answer tomorrow." Mr. Heigle made a shooing motion with his hands. "Today-lunch! Go. Growing boys need to eat!"

Kurt and Karofsky walked out. As soon as they turned the corner and were out of Mr. Heigle's sight, Karofsky shoved Kurt into a locker.

"This stops now!"

Karofsky laughed at Kurt's outrage. "Yeah?" He shoved Kurt's shoulders. "Or what?"

Kurt grabbed his messenger bag and pulled out Nikolai's journal.

"Or you'll never see this again."

Karofsky shrugged but Kurt saw a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Like I care about what a dead fag wrote eighty years ago."

"I think you do care. A lot." Kurt spotted Azimio walking towards them, slushie in hand, smirk on his face. "If I'm wrong, I get a face full of blueberry syrup." Kurt slid Nikolai's journal under his shirt. "But if I'm right, you Neanderthals won't be so quick to slushie me any more."

Karofsky followed Kurt's gaze and finally noticed Azimio a few feet away and quickly closing the distance. Kurt watched Karofsky out of the corner of his eye, but the jock made no move to intercept his teammate. Azimio drew his arm back, ready to toss the slushie he carried straight into Kurt Hummel's face-until Karofsky smoothly grabbed the cup from his hand and took a noisy slurp. He gave Azimio a friendly punch to the shoulder.

"Thanks, man, I was dying for a drink!"

Karofsky turned to walk down the hall and Azimio caught up with him. Kurt smiled to himself. He patted Nikolai's journal, pleased that he finally had a useful weapon to use against Karofsky.

When he looked up, he saw Karofsky point to him and then slam his fist into a locker, the unspoken threat to Kurt communicated clearly.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** 15 reviews after only one chapter-wow-thank you so much!

* * *

PART 2

When Kurt stopped by Hummel Tires and Lube after school to see if his dad needed help, he was surprised to find Burt Hummel deep in conversation with a Lima police detective. Concerned, he gripped his messenger bag tighter and hurried inside.

"Dad, what's going on?"

Burt smiled and gave Kurt's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Kurt, this is Det. Metz." Kurt nodded briefly, not accepting his dad's reassurance just yet. "Detective, this is my son, Kurt." The detective glanced up briefly then returned to writing in his notebook.

"Kurt was here that day, too." That earned Kurt another, more appraising glance from the detective.

"I may have some questions for you."

"Dad?" Kurt prompted him for an explanation.

"You remember the guys that came in a couple weeks ago trying to sell rims?"

"The ones in the Dodge Ram 1500 with the Toyo Proxes tires, 22 inch aluminum Boss spinners and garish paint job?"

Det. Metz raised his eyebrows as Kurt easily rattled off a description of the truck.

"Yeah. The detective thinks it may be the same truck that was used in that Jewish temple vandalism."

"So you're okay? The shop's okay?"

Burt grinned at his son's protectiveness. "Everything here is okay. There's water in the fridge for you."

"Thanks, Dad." Kurt smiled, his relief obvious. He walked into his dad's office, set his messenger bag down in one of the chairs and grabbed a bottle of lime Perrier from the office refrigerator. He took a quick sip as he walked back out.

Det. Metz gave Kurt a moment to drink his water before directing his questions to the young teen.

"When you say garish paint job, can you be more specific?"

"The upper half was red, the lower half was orange and there was a metallic gold, orange and green flame border between the two that ran the length of the truck."

"Anything else about the truck that you remember?"

"Not really, no." Kurt shrugged. "I pulled in as they were leaving."

Det. Metz was silent for a moment as he wrote down Kurt's information.

"How many guys were in the truck?"

"I only noticed the passenger."

"Description?"

"White male, late 20's, 6'2", muscular build, nice teeth."

"Long hair? Short hair?"

"Buzzed a la Justin Timberlake."

"Color?"

Kurt pursed his lips, giving the question careful consideration. "I would say it's more Feria Copper Shimmer than Clairol Light Auburn."

"Seriously, kid?"

Kurt sighed. "Carrot colored hair."

"Eyes?"

Kurt opened his mouth to say one thing, thought better of it, and answered simply, "Light blue."

"Got it. Thanks. Did you happen to notice what he was wearing?"

Burt Hummel rolled his eyes. "This could take a while."

Kurt gave his dad an irritated look. He turned back to answer Det. Metz's question.

"He wore a knockoff of a Tommy Hilfiger shirt."

"How do you know it was a knockoff?"

"His shirt was gray and white, Hilfiger's colors are charcoal and silver with crimson accents."

"Any reason this particular customer stood out in your mind?"

Kurt glanced at his dad before quietly answering. "He called me McSwishy when I walked past their truck." Kurt looked uncomfortable. "And asked if I wanted some fries to go with that shake."

Burt's face darkened in anger. "He what?"

"Dad-"

"No, Kurt, don't you 'dad' me! I've told you before, any customer gives you crap, you come to me."

"Anything else?" Det. Metz prompted.

Kurt shook his head.

Det. Metz closed his notebook and shoved it in his pocket. "You've got my card. If you think of anything else, call me."

Burt nodded as he watched the detective leave. He turned back to Kurt, gave an exasperated sigh then shook his head and went to his office. Kurt followed quietly, upset at himself for upsetting his dad.

Burt Hummel leaned back in his chair watching Kurt as he came in and settled into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He wasn't angry with Kurt. He was angry that he couldn't always protect his son the way he wanted to. Seeing how miserable Kurt looked at the moment, Burt didn't think Kurt always appreciated the difference in who his anger was directed towards.

"Hey." Kurt glanced up. "How was school? Your history teacher gonna help you translate Dad's journal?"

"Not exactly. He wants me to work on it with another student."

"That a problem?"

Kurt sighed. There was no way to tell Burt his fears about Karofsky without upsetting him. And if he let it slip that the bully had threatened to kill him, Kurt had a pretty good idea his dad would react with physical violence to protect him. Kurt smiled. The thought of Burt Hummel slamming Dave Karofsky into a locker for once might be worth seeing.

"I suppose not."

"Then what is the problem? 'Cause there's somethin' you're not tellin' me."

"Karofsky thinks the journal belongs to his family. When he opened the journal, he read off his great uncle's name." Kurt fidgeted with the strap of his messenger bag. "Doesn't it seem, well, a little odd that granddad wrote in Russian instead of German?"

Burt shoved his chair hard against the desk as he stood up.

"Maybe I don't know a lick of Russian. Hell, I've forgotten most of the German I knew. But I know my dad's handwriting."

He walked over to a framed check hanging above the cash register. He grabbed it off the wall, carried it over to the desk and set it in front of Kurt.

"Where's Dad's journal?"

Kurt hurriedly opened his messenger bag and pulled out the leather book. Burt flipped through it quickly, finally finding the page he was looking for. He tapped the letters on the page then moved the check over to compare the two. "There, see? The way the capital 'h' in 'Hummel' is written on the check matches the one here." He flipped through a few more pages. "And the loop of the 'y' in 'thirty'-another match to-well, whatever the hell that word is."

Kurt studied the pages his dad pointed out and found more as he followed along. Klaus Hummel's handwriting was bold and distinctive. It was easy to see the two samples had been written by the same person. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that Karofsky genuinely believed the journal belonged to Nikolai.

"But why write it in Russian?"

"Same reason you write your diary in French. So your old man can't read it."

"Oh." Kurt's cheeks pinkened at the thought of Burt reading his private thoughts. There were entries he had written last year during his "obsessed with Finn" phase that he definitely did not want his dad to read. Ever.

Burt chuckled at his son's obvious discomfort. The truth was, he had been relieved when he stumbled across Kurt's diary and discovered he couldn't understand a word of it. He loved his son. But he still wasn't ready to read about the heartbreaks and hook ups every teenager went through in high school. Or, worse in Burt's mind, to read that he had let Kurt down in a moment when Kurt had really needed his dad to be there for him.

"You were never curious enough about it to have it translated?"

Burt shrugged. "I knew enough about what was in it."

Kurt looked over at his dad, surprised. "You already know what it says?"

"You really need to know this?"

"Yes, Dad, I think I do."

Burt stepped out of the office, fixed a cup of coffee then carefully carried it back to his desk.

"You know your grandparents grew up together in Berlin." Kurt nodded. "Their families were always close and everyone assumed they'd get married. Until they had a falling out."

"Granddad met someone else?" Kurt guessed.

Burt nodded. "A Jewish girl." Burt looked embarrassed. "Kurt, you need to understand the way things were in Germany then and…well, I'm not saying it was right. But there were reasons Dad had to be careful, secretive."

"Did he love her?"

Burt rubbed the rim of his coffee mug. "After Mom died, Dad told me once that Kolya had been the love of his life."

"Kolya?"

"That was her name. That was pretty much all he ever said about her." Burt caught Kurt's gaze. "Don't get me wrong, your granddad was a good father and a good husband. He loved Mom." Burt looked away, "But I always knew there was something between Mom and Dad. He would get this look sometimes, like he was a million miles away. If things had been different, who knows?" Burt sipped his coffee. "He might have married Kolya instead of your grandmother."

"What happened to Kolya?" Kurt asked softly, certain he already knew the answer.

"She died in a concentration camp."

Kurt reached over and squeezed Burt's arm. "This is too personal, Dad, I can find another project for history class."

"No." Burt cleared his throat. "No, Kurt. You kids need to know what it was like back then. You need to remember what happened to people like Kolya. I think Dad would want you to share her story with your class."

Kurt nodded.

"I've still got a couple of cars to finish. You gonna stick around or you wanna head on home?"

"Do you need help?"

"Naw, I'm good."

"I think I'll stay for a little bit longer." Kurt smiled. "And make sure Finn doesn't try to sneak you another bacon burger."

Burt laughed as he headed back into the bay area of the garage.

Kurt ran his palm over the worn cover of the journal. He couldn't forget the look on Karofsky's face when he was holding it, as if he had a personal connection to it.

_How does it feel knowing your great uncle was gay? Just. Like. You. _

Kurt's words had been thrown back at Karofsky in the heat of the moment. But now, as he flipped through the pages of the journal, Kurt considered the question seriously. How would Karofsky feel? Embarrassed? Relieved? If there had been something in here that Karofsky could have related to, if Nikolai had written about his own experiences of being gay, of coming out to his family…Kurt sighed. He closed the journal and carefully slid it back into his messenger bag. Unfortunately, the evidence was clear that this was Klaus Hummel's journal, not Nikolai Karofsky's. And, Kurt considered, there was always the possibility that Karofsky had lied just to harass him.

Bored, Kurt decided to see what he could find out about Kolya. He took out his phone, pulled up Google and quickly typed in a search for the name. He scanned the results. Origin, "Russian." Meaning, "victory of the people." Kurt frowned as he read the rest. "Suitable for boys only." His eyes widened and he stared open mouthed at the last line.

Diminutive of Nikolai.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts-I really appreciate the positive support for this story! Some of the people and places mentioned are real but are used fictitiously.

PART 3

**Berlin, Summer of 1936**

"If I wished to purchase a rhubarb Streuselkuchen, I would have requested a rhubarb Streuselkuchen. I did not. I requested gooseberry."

It was the voice that drew Nikolai's attention. He set the bag of flour he had been carrying down, wiped his hands on his apron and hurried to the front of the bakery to see if Frau Klein needed his help. He stopped short when he saw the customer. He had spoken with such authority, such a sureness of self that Nikolai expected to see an older gentleman, possibly one of the German soldiers who were coming by more frequently.

Instead, he saw a young German man only a few years older than he was. He appeared to be a university student but he carried himself as proudly as if he were there with Adolf Hitler's personal approval.

"The Bienenstich is very good." Nikolai offered softly. "A new recipe. With lemon custard."

"Who are you and why are you addressing me?" Klaus Hummel snapped sharply as he turned to face Nikolai. He immediately regretted his tone when he saw the tall, broad shouldered Russian with wavy, golden brown hair, light hazel eyes and the most perfect lips Klaus had ever seen.

"Karofsky, Nikolai Petrovich."

"Nikolai". Klaus rolled the name slowly across his tongue as if tasting every syllable. "You are quite a mouthful." His gaze dropped to Nikolai's pelvis then quickly flicked back to the young Russian's startled eyes. "I mean, of course, your name, Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky." Klaus gave him a friendly smile and Nikolai relaxed under the genuine warmth in the German's blue eyes. "There, see? A mouthful." He chuckled at the youth's embarrassed blush.

Nikolai smiled shyly. "I apologize for the inconvenience of my name, Herr-?"

"Hummel." Klaus provided easily, amused by Nikolai's teasing.

"Herr Hummel." Nikolai clicked his heels together and briefly bowed his head as an apology. Satisfied that the situation had calmed down, Nikolai returned to the back of the bakery to finish his duties.

Klaus watched a moment longer as Nikolai walked away, noting the play of muscles across his shoulders and thighs. He wondered idly if the boy would consider sitting for him. It would be a good addition to his art portfolio to have a sample more in keeping with the current styles of Arno Breker and Josef Thorak.

He ended his musings and turned back to Frau Klein, his mood much improved.

"I think-" Klaus paced in front of the display case before seeing the pastry he wanted.

"-I would very much like to try your lemon custard Bienenstich, Frau Klein."

"Yes, Herr Hummel, right away!"

The older woman quickly selected one of the larger pastries, wrapped it carefully and handed it to Klaus, accepting his payment in return. After he left, Nikolai returned carrying a tray of bread.

"Who was he?"

"Herr Klaus Hummel. His father is a factory supervisor for August Horch of the Auto Union."

"He has money then?" Nikolai asked innocently, genuinely trying to understand why the normally brusque Frau Klein had been so eager to please the young Hummel.

"Money?" Frau Klein giggled. "No, but he has friends." She gave Nikolai a knowing look. "The right kind of friends."

"Nazis?"

"Shh!" Frau Klein swatted Nikolai lightly with her hand. "Back to the kitchen with you, lazy boy!" The affection in her voice was evident as she gave Nikolai a light push towards the back of the bakery.

* * *

A few days later, Nikolai caught an unexpected glimpse of Klaus again. He was hurrying through the Scheunenviertel district and happened to pass behind Klaus as he sketched the Neue Synagogue. Nikolai was on an errand for his father so he couldn't stop to talk. Not that Klaus would have noticed if he had. He was too absorbed by his drawing to be distracted by the people around him. Or, Nikolai smiled to himself, by the smudge of charcoal on his cheek. He watched for a moment. Klaus' strokes were sure and swift as his hand moved deftly across his sketch pad. And the look of passion on his face…Nikolai sighed and quickly left to continue his errand.

* * *

"There is a customer, Kolya."

"I am busy." Nikolai answered, hoping if he ignored his sister she would go away.

Zarya stamped her foot impatiently. "_I_ am busy watching the children."

"Zarya…"

"No, Nikolai! Papa said you are to mind the shop, I am to mind the children. Besides, he is a student. You know how they are. He will not stay long."

Nikolai threw his younger sister an irritated look, then set aside the slacks he had been hemming and walked to the front of the shop. He was surprised to see Klaus Hummel at the counter. Although from the expression on Klaus' face, the young artist was equally caught off guard.

"Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky." A smile played across Klaus' lips.

"Herr Hummel."

Klaus looked around the well furnished tailor shop with amusement before turning back to Nikolai. "I confess to being somewhat confused, Herr Karofsky. I am here to pick up a suit but seeing you behind the counter, perhaps I should order a Bienenstich instead?"

Nikolai blushed. "I work at the bakery in the mornings, my father's shop in the afternoons."

"Ah. No wonder I have never seen you here. I usually run my errands at noon, when the light is too harsh for sketching. You were right, by the way." Klaus licked his lips. "The lemon curd was quite good."

"Frau Klein will be pleased to know you enjoyed it."

"My suit then, Herr Karofsky?"

"Of course. This way." Nikolai escorted Klaus to a private dressing area then excused himself while he located the suit Klaus had ordered. When he returned, Klaus had already removed his pants and coat. Nikolai was surprised to see Klaus had a swimmer's physique, lean and muscular. He helped Klaus dress, letting him put the slacks on by himself while he focused on the vest and suit coat.

Nikolai heard the bell to the front door ring, another customer. He heard Zarya's footsteps followed by her calling for him.

"Kolya? Kolya! Do not think you can hide back here!"

Before Nikolai could stop her, Zarya yanked the privacy curtain open. Furious, Nikolai, pushed her away and snatched the curtains back together.

"Get out, Zarya! I apologize for my sister, Herr Hummel." Nikolai glanced at the curtains. "She is young." He added under his breath. "And has the manners of a cow."

"It is of no consequence." Klaus looked at Nikolai curiously. "What was that name she called you?"

"Kolya."

"Kolya," Klaus tested the name and found it to his liking. "Yes, that will do much better, I think." His eyes sparkled as he smiled. "Less of a mouthful than Nikolai."

Nikolai's jaw tightened. "You do not know me well enough to call me Kolya."

"I see." Klaus responded coolly, hiding his disappointment. "Perhaps at a later time, then, after we know each better."

He turned and studied is reflection in the mirror, nodding his approval. "There, now I am a proper German gentleman, yes?"

Nikolai quickly busied himself so he wouldn't have to meet Klaus' eyes. "It is as you say, Herr Hummel."

Klaus wasn't fooled by Nikolai's evasiveness. He cupped Nikolai's chin in his hand and gently tilted the young Russian's face to meet his. "If something is not as it should be, I expect you to tell me. I will not be angry. You have my word." Klaus glanced back at the mirror. "It is very important that I make a good impression at this meeting."

"You need a haircut, a shave and polished shoes." Nikolai blurted out in a nervous rush.

Klaus nodded his approval. "What else?"

"Cologne."

Klaus glanced sideways at Nikolai. "I am wearing cologne." Nikolai bit his lip and said nothing. Klaus understood the unspoken criticism. "I see. I need new cologne."

"And cufflinks." Nikolai ventured to add.

Klaus sat heavily in a chair and let out an exasperated breath. "I have a proposition for you."

* * *

Over the next two weeks, as time allowed, Nikolai took Klaus shopping. He educated the young German artist on fabrics and fashion, on which colors suited his coloring and which colors were unflattering. Nikolai introduced him to a barber, a cobbler and a perfumier. Surprisingly, Klaus was attentive and quick minded. Nikolai soon found himself enjoying Klaus' gossip, especially his insights and speculations regarding the upcoming Olympics and art competition. The German youth's excitement was contagious.

After another long day of shopping, Nikolai and Klaus climbed the stairs to his third floor art studio and put away his latest purchases.

"Think of it, Nikolai!" Klaus was flushed and breathless, partly from the stairs and partly from the latest news he was eager to share with his companion. "Runners carrying a torch from Olympia, Greece to Berlin, Germany-it has never been done!" Klaus grinned, imagining the sight. "It will be magnificent."

He walked over to a side table.

"Would you like something to drink?" Klaus held up a glass decanter filled with an emerald green liquid.

"What is it?"

"A gift from a patron."

Nikolai grew suspicious. "What is it?"

"Absinthe."

Nikolai's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head no. He was familiar with the story of the man who had fallen prey to absinthe's hallucinations and killed his family. He stood to leave.

"Sit down, Nikolai! I have drunk half the bottle already. Does my studio look as if I have torn it apart in a fit of insanity? No. Do I look as if I have clawed my eyes out or scratched my arms or harmed myself in any way? No."

Klaus continued to fix his drink. Nikolai watched, curious, as he set a slotted spoon with a sugar cube over the absinthe already in his glass. Klaus poured water over the sugar. When he was satisfied with the amount he added, he stirred the drink once, set the spoon aside and took a quick sip. He sighed contentedly. He took another sip before sitting down and eyeing Nikolai.

"You are upset."

"I am fine."

"You are not fine. What has been on your mind today?"

"My parents have been arguing."

"Over what?"

"Two years ago, Hugo Boss became the official uniform supplier for the Nazis."

"Has that taken business away from your family?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Mother thinks so. She insists we need to be more approachable to the German army. Friendlier."

"And your father?"

"He is cautious. I think he is torn between the Russian Jews who are our friends and the German soldiers who are our customers." Nikolai brushed a piece of lint off of his slacks. "It is hard sometimes."

"Yes. My father wants me to join him at the Auto Union as a technical illustrator ." He shuddered. "Sketching car engines."

"I thought you were a student."

"I am." Klaus swirled his glass and studied the absinthe's green whirls of color, lost in thought. "I was. I was a student at Bauhaus until they closed it three years ago."

"Why?"

Klaus scoffed. "The Nazis have condemned the Bauhaus style as degenerate art. Subversive." His face took on a far away, wistful look as he remembered his studies at the art school. "I hope to be accepted to the Vkhutemas school in Moscow soon."

"Your Russian is very good. You will do well."

Klaus raised a questioning eyebrow. "I will do well because I speak Russian and not because I am a talented artist?"

"No, of course not-you are-I mean-" Nikolai stammered, embarrassed. "I envy you. You see your goals so clearly, you are so sure of what you want."

"What do you want, Nikolai?" Klaus whispered.

Nikolai gazed at Klaus, surrounded by shadows with only a single shaft of afternoon sunlight falling across his shoulders and reflecting in the shifting colors of his eyes.

"To kiss you." Nikolai didn't think he had spoken out loud until he saw the slightly surprised look on Klaus' face. Nikolai lowered his eyes, certain that he had offended the young German.

"Then kiss me."

Nikolai's eyes darted up, surprised that far from being angry, Klaus seemed pleased. He took a deep breath. Nikolai wiped his palms on his pants, leaned over and tentatively kissed Klaus. He pulled back then dared another quick press of his lips against Klaus'. This time when he broke the kiss, he waited anxiously for Klaus' reaction.

"Is that it then?" Klaus chuckled as he walked over to the table to freshen his drink. "Little butterfly kisses?" He sipped his absinthe, still laughing. But the laughter died quickly when he saw the dejected look on Nikolai's face and realized he had taken his teasing too far.

Klaus set his drink down and strolled back to Nikolai, letting his desire for the young Russian show clearly in the slow, possessive way his eyes lingered over his body.

"If a man is worth kissing, he is worth kissing well."

With that, Klaus grasped Nikolai's face in his hands and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Nikolai tensed. But as Klaus deepened the kiss, Nikolai relaxed into it, crying out against Klaus' mouth. Klaus ended the kiss. He smiled affectionately at the dazed look in Nikolai's hazel eyes.

"Like so." Klaus smirked.

The smirk vanished when Nikolai suddenly grabbed Klaus' shoulders, pinned him to the wall and returned Klaus' kiss just as fiercely. The kiss left Klaus breathless. A slow smile spread across his lips as he leaned in to kiss Nikolai's throat.

"So, am I permitted to call you Kolya now?"

Nikolai laughed softly. "Perhaps."


	4. Chapter 4

PART 4

**A/N: **To all of the tumblr pirates-welcome and thank you for the praise and publicity! To everyone-wow-so overwhelmed by the incredible reviews!

* * *

A Karofsky. The love of his grandfather's life. Kurt rolled his eyes, making a point of not looking at a very unhappy Dave Karofsky seated next to him. His gaze fell on Karofsky's hands resting on Mr. Heigle's desk. They could be worse, Kurt mused. The long, evenly tapered fingers ended in neatly trimmed-surprisingly clean-fingernails. If one cared about such details.

Kurt's sideways glance also noted the way Karofsky's hoodie skimmed over his body, hiding the flaws, but fit more snugly across his shoulders and arms, showing off well defined muscles. He couldn't tell from this angle, but Kurt was fairly certain that the olive color would bring out the green in Karofsky's hazel eyes. The hoodie was a genuine Ralph Lauren. Kurt refrained from rolling his eyes again at the unfashionably conservative designer. Still, it was better than the Old Navy specials most of the other jocks wore when they were "dressing up".

He wondered if Karofsky looked anything like his great-uncle. It was hard to tell from the Sachsenhausen photo. They appeared to be the same height. And they both had those broad shoulders that Kurt found himself sneaking another peek at. He quickly brushed the thought aside, irritated. He certainly had better things to think of than Dave Karofsky.

Karofsky slapped his palms against the desktop in a burst of anger.

"This is bull!"

"Manners, Mr. Karofsky, manners."

Mr. Heigle had only to peer over his glasses at the football jock for Karofsky to redden at his outburst and quickly mumble, "Sorry…sir."

Mr. Heigle nodded his approval as Karofsky quickly reigned in his temper and settled back in his chair, fists shoved into his hoodie. Kurt looked over in surprise at the suddenly meek Karofsky. He quickly made a mental note to add Mr. Heigle's name to his list of anti-Karofsky tactics.

Kurt spoke again, restating his original argument. "Prisoners were stripped of everything they owned. Dozens of men were forced to live together in impossibly crowded barracks. There was no privacy whatsoever."

Karofsky's jaw tightened. "I know what I read. You think I lied?"

Kurt eyed Karofsky coolly. "I'm saying that given the circumstances, I don't see how Nikolai could have possibly kept a journal at Sachsenhausen." He turned to Mr. Heigle. "And I have proof that the handwriting in the journal is my grandfather's."

Mr. Heigle drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered Kurt's points. Finally, he held a hand out to Kurt. "The journal, please, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt pulled the journal from his messenger bag and handed it over. He felt Karofsky watching every movement as the journal passed from his hand to Mr. Heigle's. They both sat quietly for a brief moment while Mr. Heigle flicked through the pages. He closed the book with a smile. "Mr. Hummel, you have been less diligent in your homework this week I think, yes?"

Kurt squirmed uneasily. He was suddenly regretting the weeklong Andrew Lloyd Webber marathon on PBS. "Sir?"

"Aside from your grandfather's handwriting, have you observed any other details of this journal?"

For the first time since the meeting started, Karofsky turned to face Kurt, enjoying the young diva's sudden discomfort as he stammered over his answer to Mr. Heigle.

"Well, I-it's in Russian."

"There are three distinct styles of writing presented. The evidence so far suggests the journal was written by Nikolai Karofsky _and_ Klaus Hummel." Mr. Heigle handed the book back to Kurt. "As well as a woman named Zarya."

"Nikolai's sister." Karofsky clarified. "My grandmother."

Kurt frowned. "If she's your grandmother, wouldn't your last name-?"

"She married a cousin, also named Karofsky."

"Inbreed much?" Kurt murmured under his breath. It was too soft for Mr. Heigle to hear but Kurt could tell from the look that flashed across Karofsky's face that he had caught every word.

"So, Mr. Hummel, Mr. Karofsky, the two of you will be working on this assignment together? Yes?"

Karofsky shrugged. "I said I'm in."

Kurt studied Karofsky's face, noting how tightly set his jaw was, as if it was taking everything he had not to show any emotional reaction to Kurt's answer. Because, Kurt realized, Karofsky expected Kurt to say no. And that no was going to hurt.

"Yes, I'm in."

* * *

Kurt was on his way to meet Mercedes for lunch when Karofsky caught up with him. Without saying a word, he shoved Kurt into the boys' locker room, pinned him against a wall and yanked the messenger bag off his shoulder. Kurt rubbed his arm as he watched Karofsky rifle through the messenger bag. Nothing. Karofsky threw the bag to the ground. He came at Kurt again, roughly shoving his hands up under Kurt's shirt as Kurt tried to push him off.

"Stop it!"

Karofsky found the journal and yanked it free. Kurt made a futile lunge to grab the book but Karofsky easily blocked him.

"What you want isn't in there."

Karofsky hesitated. "Only thing I want is a passing grade so I can keep playin' football."

"Klaus and Nikolai weren't friends." Kurt continued, trying to keep Karofsky from leaving with journal.

Karofsky smirked. "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"They were lovers."

In a burst of anger, Karofsky grabbed Kurt by his shirt and smacked him against the lockers.

"Don't mess with me, Hummel!"

"It's true." Kurt gasped.

Kurt watched a mixture of confusion and denial play across Karofsky's face before he let Kurt go and turned away.

"That's a really fucked up thing to say."

"It's true." Kurt repeated quietly but firmly.

Karofsky glanced over his shoulder and Kurt was surprised at the look in his eyes. He had expected Karofsky to be angry, confrontational. He hadn't expected to see longing reflected in those eyes. Or hope.

"Were they happy?"

Kurt felt the weight of everything Karofsky didn't say in those three words. He understood how important it was for Karofsky to know if Nikolai had found love and happiness in being exactly who he was. That somehow that knowledge would make it easier for Karofsky to accept being gay.

"He said Kolya was the love of his life."

"Kolya." Karofsky repeated the name softly, a smile playing across his lips. It vanished quickly when he turned and confronted Kurt again. "What else do you know?"

"No." Kurt shook his head. "No, Karofsky, we make a deal." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "We both want to know what happened between Klaus and Nikolai. And we both have more information than what's in the journal." Kurt saw Karofsky visibly relax and realized he was actually listening to what Kurt had to say. "The only way we're going to find out the truth is if we share everything.

"Even if it turns out your granddad was a fag killing Nazi?"

Kurt winced at the use of "fag". "I'm willing to accept the truth, whatever it is. Are you?"

Karofsky considered it for a moment, then nodded and handed the journal back to Kurt.

"Public library. 6:00."

"Fine. But 'America's Next Top Model' is on at 9:00. The season finale. If I'm not there, you'll be answering to Mercedes."

* * *

When Kurt pulled into the library parking lot, he saw Karofsky standing against his car in a heated conversation with an older man. As Kurt parked and got out, he realized the older man was watching him intensely. Karofsky said something Kurt couldn't hear. The older man lowered his voice, talked to Karofsky a few moments more then quickly left as Kurt walked over to join them.

"Lover's quarrel?" Kurt couldn't resist asking mischievously. Karofsky shot Kurt a look. Kurt bit back another snarky comment. He watched the other man get in his car and pull out of the parking lot sharply. He looked curiously at Karofsky, his face unreadable.

"Are you okay?"

"Like you care."

Kurt shrugged. "Things seemed pretty intense between the two of you."

Karofsky sighed. "He's my sponsor."

That caused Kurt to do a double take. "Like an A.A. sponsor?"

"Something like that."

"Oh." Kurt let the subject drop and instead turned his attention to Karofsky's vintage muscle car. The car was deep orange with a rich black interior. Kurt let out a low whistle as he circled it, noting the exterior detailing and sneaking a peek at the interior.

"Nice Goat."

Karofsky glanced at Kurt, surprised. "You know GTOs?"

"Not really. But the '69 Judge is one of my dad's favorite cars." Kurt ran his palm approvingly over the hood. "This is beautiful. Did you restore it yourself?"

Karofsky didn't know what to make of the honest admiration on Kurt's face. He was proud of the work he had put into his Judge but was suddenly shy about discussing it with Kurt.

"Az and my brothers helped."

Kurt patted the car and turned to face Karofsky. "Shall we?"

Karofsky nodded and followed Kurt up the steps.

Inside, they finally settled into a table on the second floor. It was halfway between the history section and the reference room for Karofsky and had a window overlooking the parking lot for Kurt to keep watch over his baby.

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. Kurt's fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop a counterpoint to Karofsky's pen scratching across notebook paper. Every once in a while, Kurt would hear Karofsky reading softly in Russian. And every once in a while, although Kurt would never admit it, he would stop and just listen Karofsky's voice.

They had been working for about half an hour when a flash of color in the parking lot caught Kurt's eye. He turned his head and saw the red and orange Ram 1500 back up and pull into the empty space next to Kurt's car. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for the driver and passenger to step out. The driver came out first. Kurt's initial impression was of dirty blonde hair and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once.

Suddenly, Karofsky shoved the table against Kurt, distracting him before he could see the passenger get out.

"Hey!" He shot Karofsky an irritated look. "What is your problem?"

Karofsky shoved the table again, harder. This time, Kurt yelped in pain. "You have a good laugh, Fancy?" He jerked the table back, then rested his hands on it as if ready to shove it against Kurt again. "Love of his life-you think that was funny?" Karofsky picked up the journal, walked around to Kurt and slammed it on the table next to him causing him to jump. He leaned over Kurt's shoulder, crowding him against the window. "I warned you not to mess with me."

Kurt cringed, trying to move out from under Karofsky's towering from. "I don't understand, what's wrong?"

"Not. One. Word." Karofsky picked up the journal and slapped it tight against Kurt's chest. "Not one word about Klaus being his lover."

"Klaus didn't use Nikolai's name, he used Kolya. Maybe Nikolai used a nickname for Klaus."

"I thought of that!"

Every instinct in Kurt told him to fight, to push Karofsky away and scream for help. And so far, following his instincts had only escalated the problem with Karofsky. He thought about how Mr. Heigle had handled the football jock's angry outburst earlier. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Kurt reached over and laid his hand on Karofsky's arm. He spoke with a calmness he didn't feel.

"Then think of something else, Dave."

Kurt's reaction caught Karofsky off guard. Whether it was Kurt calling him "Dave" or the light touch of those fingers on his arm Karofsky didn't know but he felt calmer.

"You're smart." Kurt continued, finding it hard to believe that the tense situation could be so easily diffused just by changing his own reaction. "You'll figure this out."

Karofsky took the journal from Kurt's chest and set it on the table.

"It's frustrating." Kurt squeezed his arm. "I know."

"Yeah." Karofsky ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Kurt, puzzled. "You haven't asked anything about your granddad yet."

Kurt shrugged. "I can't make you translate any faster can I? Why don't you take a break? I want to show you something."

Karofsky pulled his chair over to Kurt's side so he could see the website Kurt pulled up on his computer. Karofsky skimmed over a map of Sachsenhausen, a list of the camp commanders and finally looked at the photo Kurt was pointing to. It showed a gated entrance with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" across the top.

"Work makes you free." Kurt translated for him. "Initially, the Nazis used experiments and hard labor to try and cure gays, not kill them." Kurt clicked on a photo.

"Dude…that's sick."

Kurt nodded. "The experiments were…pretty gruesome."

Karofsky reached over and Kurt turned the laptop so he had better access to the mouse pad. He watched Karofsky's eyes light with interest as he clicked on another link.

"Hey, look at this. Counterfeiting? They had a friggin' counterfeiting system set up at a concentration camp!"

Kurt bit back a smile at Karofsky's excited outburst. Well, he thought to himself, a burst of excitement was certainly better to deal with than a burst of anger. He leaned in against Karofsky's shoulder to read the screen.

"The greatest counterfeit scheme in history. Operation Bernhard."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **As I was writing this chapter, I realized the story is veering off into more AU territory regarding the historical aspects. So, for those who are history buffs, I've included a set of notes at the bottom indicating the "real" timeline as opposed to the one in this story.

Again, some of the people, places and events are real but are used fictitiously.

* * *

PART 5

**Berlin, Summer of 1936**

Nikolai stood outside of Klaus' studio quietly laughing to himself. From inside, he could hear Klaus colorfully venting his frustration with trying to knot his tie. Using his key, Nikolai entered quietly. As he suspected, Klaus was, quite unsuccessfully, wrestling with his neckwear.

Nikolai's laughter returned. "Good morning, Little Gosling."

Klaus huffed impatiently. "I have asked you not to call me that ridiculous name."

Nikolai crossed the room to stand behind Klaus. He batted Klaus' hands away and, with experienced fingers, deftly executed a perfectly knotted tie. He moved to stand in front of Klaus, tucked the tie under his vest and ran a palm down his chest, smoothing the fabric. He nodded his approval.

"I like calling you Gosling. It reminds me of the first time I saw you. Standing in Frau Klein's bakery squawking over a gooseberry Streuselkuchen."

"Squawking over a pastry?" Klaus put his hands on his hips. "When we are old, fat and bald, this is what you will be telling our grandchildren about how we met? Ach!"

Nikolai's face softened. He pulled Klaus closer for a deep, lingering kiss.

"What was that for?"

Nikolai stroked Klaus' cheek. "For saying we will be old together."

Klaus blushed. "Will you come for dinner?"

"Will you come after dinner?" Nikolai whispered suggestively before breaking into a boyish grin.

"You Russians. Such perverse degenerates." Nikolai's lips trailed down Klaus' throat. "So subversive."

Nikolai chuckled, low and throaty. "I was corrupted by a Bauhaus student."

Klaus sighed, leaning into to Nikolai's kisses. "You are beginning to convince me that corruption may be a virtue."

"Mm." Nikolai nipped and sucked on Klaus' throat. "I can be very convincing."

"Kolya?"

"Yes?"

Klaus fell silent, unable to put into words everything he was feeling, everything he wanted Nikolai to know. He settled for tracing Nikolai's lower lip with his thumb. Nikolai smiled.

"You love me."

He pressed his lips to Klaus' mouth. When he finally pulled away, he playfully swatted Klaus' rear and handed him his art portfolio.

"You will be late."

Klaus grabbed Nikolai's hips and pulled him closer. "Would that be so bad?" He rubbed against the younger Russian causing Nikolai to groan. Reluctantly, Nikolai disengaged from Klaus' insistent hands and pushed him towards the door.

"Yes, go!"

Klaus looked over his shoulder, giving Nikolai his best sexy pout.

"Kolya, you did not say you love me back."

Nikolai pinned Klaus to the door and kissed him again, this time savoring the taste and feel of Klaus' mouth, teasing his tongue into surrendering to his. Klaus threw one arm around Nikolai's neck, sighing.

"There, now go, Little Gosling."

"You still did not _say_ it." Klaus murmured petulantly.

Chuckling, Nikolai cupped Klaus' chin in his hand. "I. Love. You."

Klaus' eyes sparkled with happiness. "Was that so hard?" Smiling, he shifted his grip on the portfolio and left.

* * *

Klaus was only half listening to his father, Bertram Hummel, as they walked to the Borchardt restaurant at Franzosische Strasse 48 for their business meeting. He was distracted by the midday crowds of downtown Berlin. Everywhere he looked it seemed that the city was being scrubbed, painted and polished for the Olympics. Even the anti-Jew signs were being taken down or painted over.

"Yes, I will marry Elfi. Yes, we will have dozens of children." Klaus turned and smiled fondly at his father. They had had this discussion many times. "And yes, my son will be named after you just as I was named after your father."

"And the tailor's boy?"

Klaus' smile faded. "Elfi and I have an understanding."

"But if she forced you to choose?"

"She would never ask that of me."

"And if I ask it of you?"

Klaus eyed Bertram coolly. "Do not ask. You will not like the answer."

"Klaus." Bertram watched his son continue to walk away . He hurried to catch up to him. He grabbed Klaus' arm to get his attention. "Klaus!" He herded his son away from the busy sidewalks to a more secluded spot. "This is not the Berlin you knew when you were 18." He hissed under his breath. "When you were 18 and sneaking off to the Eldorado to be seduced by any man, woman or animal that would have you and no one looked twice!"

Klaus felt the pain of his father's words deeply. He knew Bertram had never approved of the drinking, the sex and, truthfully, the vulgarities that had been common in the Eldorado. But he had never suspected that his father believed he had whored himself out to strangers every night.

"Two."

Bertram looked puzzled. "Two?"

"I had sex with two men in the Eldorado. One, I chose." Klaus lowered his eyes. "The other, I did not." Klaus' voice grew softer. "He threatened to cut out my eye and keep it as a souvenir." Klaus wiped his eyes, tugged on his vest and gave his father a tight smile.

"So, if you are trying to teach me that I need to be careful in this new Berlin, I have already learned my lesson." Klaus looked into is father's eyes. "I do love Elfi. But I live for Kolya."

Bertram sighed heavily. "You would leave her for him."

"Yes. If Kolya asked it, I would abandon all I know to be with him."

"Foolish boy." But instead of anger, there was a reluctant acceptance in Bertram's voice.

Klaus gave his father a quick, one armed hug and laughed. "I am the foolish one? I was not so lovesick that I traveled through three countries to follow a woman I glanced once on a passing train."

Bertram smiled, a gleam in his eye. "I married that woman."

"So you did."

With their disagreement settled for the moment, Klaus and Bertram quickly covered the remaining distance and reached the Borchardt.

* * *

When they entered the Borchardt, Bertram Hummel scanned the upscale restaurant and quickly located the rest of their business party.

"Mind your manners."

"Yes, Father."

Klaus followed closely as Bertram led the way.

"Do not be flippant."

"No, Father."

Klaus finally glimpsed the dove gray of Nazi uniforms and silently willed himself to be calm. In spite of his initial misgivings, Klaus understood that his father had agreed to this meeting on Klaus' behalf, sincerely believing it would open up new artistic opportunities for him.

"Listen to what they have to say."

"Of course, Father."

As they reached their table, immediately one of the men stood up and Bertram was quick to introduce him to his son.

"Major Bernhard Kruger."

Klaus nodded and shook hands with the SS officer, noting his dark hair, thick eyebrows and strikingly handsome face. He could have been an American movie star. His handshake was firm and sure and Klaus found himself relaxing under the major's courteous smile.

Bertram Hummel nudged his son's elbow and introduced him to the next officer standing to Kruger's right.

"Michael Lippert, Commander of Sachsenhausen."

In contrast to Major Kruger, Commander Lippert's close cropped hair and pinched face looked harsh. Still, he offered his hand and Klaus shook it.

"August Petrich, Master Printer."

Klaus swallowed his disgust at the printer's ink stained fingers. He offered a quick smile and an even quicker handshake.

Klaus turned to greet the final SS officer and froze.

"Dachs."

Sgt. Dachs Schultz flashed a grin that hinted at intimacy and possessiveness. Klaus remembered well the white blonde hair and deep blue eyes he had hoped never to see again. Self-consciously, Klaus traced the pale scar beneath his left eye. He remembered Dachs' sadistic cruelties as well.

Klaus glanced at his father and saw the troubled, questioning look on his face. He quickly adopted a carefully neutral smile and accepted Dachs' offered hand. He even managed not to flinch when Dachs' fingers stroked the back of his hand as their greeting ended.

"I heard you were in Munich."

Dachs pulled a chair out, indicating to Klaus that he should take a seat next to him. He was the last person Klaus wanted to be close to. Unfortunately, refusing would only draw attention and unwanted questions. He sat down, grateful when his father protectively took the empty seat on his other side.

"I have been promoted to the Reich Central Office for the Combating of Homosexuality and Abortion." Dachs' hand slid under the table to squeeze Klaus' knee. "I maintain the Berlin Register of Homophiles."

Klaus kept his expression guarded. "It is good to know you are back in Berlin. And congratulations on your promotion. May it bring you everything you deserve."

"Dachs?"

When Major Kruger said his name, Dachs reached into his jacket and pulled out an intricately engraved silver case. He set it on the table where everyone could admire the fine details.

"This cigarette case began our search for you, Herr Hummel." Major Kruger tapped the silver case. "This is your work? Yes?"

Klaus nodded.

He watched as Major Kruger handed the case over to the printer. He blinked in surprise as August Petrich pulled out a jeweler's loupe and began a thorough exam of the engraving. Klaus looked to his father but Bertram Hummel shook his head, just as confused as his son.

"It was a Christmas present." Dachs spoke as he turned to Klaus. "Do you remember?"

"I remember." Klaus answered tightly. It had been a Christmas present intended for his father, not Dachs.

Dachs slid his hand up Klaus' thigh. "Naturally, when Major Kruger and Herr Petrich mentioned they were looking for an experienced engraver for the Sachsenhausen project, I thought of you."

"Sgt. Schultz has been quite emphatic in his support for bringing you to Sachsenhausen." Commander Lippert added. Klaus had the impression the commander wasn't entirely pleased with Dachs' inclusion.

"Has he? I will have to think of some way to repay his consideration."

"Perhaps you would be willing to engrave a lighter to go with the cigarette case?"

Klaus smiled but there was a coldness in his eyes as he addressed Dachs.

"I am certain we will find something of yours I will take great pleasure in carving."

Under the table, Bertram Hummel kicked Klaus' foot, silently warning him to reign in his sarcasm.

Klaus used his napkin for cover as he slipped a fork from the table and jabbed it into Dachs' hand. Dachs' grip on his thigh tightened reflexively in response to the sudden pain. Surprisingly, the only sound he made was a slight cough to cover his initial surprise. Then, Dachs grabbed Klaus' hand and forced the fork in deeper.

Klaus noted Dachs' dilated pupils and the flush of desire on his face. He had forgotten pain was an aphrodisiac for the blonde German soldier. He fought a wave of revulsion as Dachs began tracing circles across his thigh.

Master Printer Petrich handed the cigarette case back to Major Kruger with a curt nod.

"Excellent detail. Smoothly carved." Herr Petrich turned to Klaus. "You have the requested samples?" He held a hand out expectantly.

Klaus nodded and brought out the carefully engraved plates and sample prints he had been asked to prepare. Again, the master printer used his loupe to examine each plate with a keen eye. Klaus was nervous about including his most recent work-the Neu Synagogue-but he was more than a little proud of how well that engraving and the resultant print had turned out. Herr Petrich made no comment on the content, merely complimented Klaus on his crosshatching technique.

As they ordered their food and ate, Klaus found himself drawn into deep conversation with Herr Petrich regarding inks and papers, especially how rag content affected quality. Occasionally, Major Kruger would ask a question or two. Or Bertram would add a comment about a particular engraving. But overall, Klaus found himself enjoying his discussion with Herr Petrich.

He hadn't noticed that Dachs' hand had left his thigh some time ago. He also failed to notice that the blonde German was growing increasingly irritated at the lack of attention from Klaus.

He did, however, notice the sudden burning in his arm.

"Ach!" Klaus gasped as a stray ash from Dachs' cigarette burned through the sleeve of his suit. Dachs stroked Klaus' arm, pretending to brush off the fallen ash, but Klaus knew the possessive gesture for what it was.

"Forgive me, I am so careless! Pity to have such a handsome suit ruined." Dachs smirked knowingly. "How fortunate you have become such good companions with the tailor's son."

Klaus felt the blood drain from his face. Dachs had seen him with Nikolai and, if he didn't know for certain, at least would have his suspicions about their relationship.

"Send Kolya to me with the bill and I will, of course, cover all expenses for replacing your jacket."

"Kolya?" Klaus feigned confusion. He dug his fingernails into his palms, hiding his outrage that Dachs would presume such familiarity with Nikolai as to use that pet name for him.

Dachs' eyes narrowed. "Nikolai Karofsky."

"Ah, yes, Nikolai."

"You have been in his company often enough this past month I would think you would know his name."

Klaus sensed that while the printer could care less about their discussion, both Major Kruger and Commander Lippert were paying close attention to Dachs' words. He glanced at his father and saw the sudden worry in his eyes.

Klaus laughed easily. "You would think so, yes. But you know how these Russians are. They say a person's name is one thing and then call him by three others." He heard Major Kruger chuckle and even Commander Lippert's expression seemed to relax. Bertram gave an ever so slight nod of his head, indicating that Klaus had covered himself well.

"So, why have you been in such close contact with Kol-Nikolai?"

Klaus raised his hands palm up in a gesture of surrender. "You have uncovered my secret, Dachs." Commander Lippert's jaw tightened. "Young Nikolai has a sharp eye and a steady hand. I hope to steal him away from Frau Klein and make him my apprentice."

"And that is such a difficult task you must court him for weeks?"

Klaus didn't miss Dachs' intentional use of the word "court". "Obviously, you have not met Frau Klein."

Major Kruger and August Petrich laughed at Klaus' comment. They were both well acquainted with Frau Klein's quick temper and knew that no German-soldier or civilian-crossed her lightly however demure she appeared to be.

Dachs smiled and the look in his eyes was deadly.

"If this Nikolai is all that you say, perhaps he would do well at Sachsenhausen."

Klaus felt his breath catch in his throat.

"At the rate you are recruiting, Sgt. Schultz-" Commander Lippert spoke up, "-there will be no room left in my camp for the Jews." He cast a critical eye at Dachs. Even though his voice remained deceptively civil , there was an undercurrent of warning. "Perhaps you should leave such decisions to your _superior_ officers, yes?"

"I meant no offense, Commander."

"See to the car, Sgt. Schultz."

Embarrassed by his abrupt dismissal, Dachs had no choice but to obey the commander's request and leave. Klaus watched him go with a guarded expression. Dachs glanced back once and the look on his face made Klaus shiver.

* * *

Klaus lay curled against Nikolai's back. He rubbed slow, soothing circles across his skin. Nikolai had arrived for dinner red eyed, sniffling and with a handprint on his cheek. When Klaus asked him what had happened, he said only that his mother had slapped him and refused to say any more.

Dinner had been quiet and tense. But when Nikolai had started to leave, protesting that he did not feel up to anything more that night, Klaus had coaxed him to bed, playfully promising to wait until morning to ravish him.

And here they had been for the past hour. Nikolai half-asleep and Klaus lost in his own thoughts. He had received a postcard from Elfi in France. He had also received an answer from the Vkhutemas school in Moscow.

He fingered a lock of Nikolai's hair as he thought back on his business lunch with the Nazis. He thought it had gone well but he still had no more idea of what they wanted from him than before. He reconsidered. Not entirely true. He knew they were working on a special project at Sachsenhausen, one that seemed to require his engraving skills.

Klaus sighed. He had thought it would be easy to refuse any offer they made. But then they had mentioned the Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne to be held in Paris next year. Then they had shown him Albert Speer's sketches for the German pavilion that would be built. And another sketch of Josef Thorak's _Comradeship_ which would be the featured sculpture.

Klaus sighed again.

And then, then they had suggested that if Klaus proved his skills at Sachsenhausen, perhaps he would be needed at the Parisian exhibition as well. His father had been right. Meeting with the Nazis had opened up artistic opportunities Klaus had only imagined in his dreams.

Klaus looked fondly at Nikolai.

_I would abandon all I know to be with him._

There was nothing to question here. He had always known what his decision would be.

"Are you awake, Kolya?"

"No."

"I think I will stop by tomorrow and order a new winter coat. One warm enough for Moscow."

Nikolai's throat tightened with emotion as he blinked back tears.

"You have been accepted to Vkhutemas."

The words felt like a death sentence.

"Yes."

Nikolai brought Klaus' hands to his lips and kissed them. "I am happy for you."

"Are you?"

"Of course!" He tightened his grip, holding Klaus's hands to his chest, unable to turn around and face him. "I know your heart is set on going."

"And what of you?"

"What of me?"

Klaus pressed his body tighter to Nikolai's, resting his chin in the crook of Nikolai's neck.

"Do you have a winter coat, Kolya?" He kissed his lover's bared shoulder. "Do you have a coat warm enough for Moscow?"

For a long moment, Nikolai couldn't breathe as Klaus' words sank in.

"Kolya?"

Nikolai rolled over and fiercely began kissing Klaus' face, his eyes, his lips, his neck until Klaus pulled back, giggling. He laid his hand against Nikolai's cheek.

"My beautiful boy." Klaus kissed Nikolai's tears. "You think my heart is set on Moscow? My heart is and ever will be set on you."

* * *

**Historical Notes: **

Eldorado was a famous Berlin club that attracted a variety of people including homosexuals, transvestites and artists. The Nazis closed it in 1933.

Michael Lippert was commander of Sachsenhausen from July of 1936 until October of 1936.

August Petrich was the Master Printer for Operation Bernhard and was asked to teach the necessary engraving skills for the counterfeit plates in six months instead of the usual three year apprenticeship.

The Nazi plan to create counterfeit money was conceived in 1939 and began with Operation Andreas. Later, the actual production and distribution of the counterfeit money was carried out through Operation Bernhard from 1942 until 1945. England learned of the plan in 1939 but dismissed it as impossible due to the security measures in place for English money. Operation Bernhard was named after Major Bernhard Kruger, the officer in charge. All of the prisoners who worked on Operation Bernhard were Jewish.

In 1934, a special division of the Gestapo was created to compile a list of gays.

The Reich Central Office for the Combating of Homosexuality and Abortion was established by Heinrich Himmler, Chief of the SS, in October of 1936.

The Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne was held in Paris in 1937. Not only did Germany's pavilion receive praise, but Hitler's chief architect, Albert Speers, was awarded special recognition.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Originally planned to include this in Chapter 5, but then Chapter 5 ended up being longer than planned. So, here's a short chapter to fill in some things.

Also, the Klaus/Kolya chapters should be read as back story, not as if that's what Kurt and Karofsky are reading in the diary. Hopefully that will clear up some confusion for anyone who's wondering why Kurt and Karofsky haven't reacted to what's happening with Klaus and Kolya yet.

Hope you like it!

* * *

PART 6

**Berlin, Summer of 1936**

Nikolai walked home with a smile on his lips and more than one love mark bruising his skin. Klaus had kept his promise and waited until morning to ravish Nikolai. But once dawn had broken, Klaus had been quite thorough in his lovemaking. Both times. Nikolai stretched, enjoying the pleasant ache in his muscles.

He passed the darkened windows of Frau Klein's bakery. Fortunately, she had given him the morning off. He broke into a grin, savoring the extra time he and Klaus had had to sleep in. His good mood faltered when he reached home, a small, two story building with the tailor shop on the first floor and living quarters on the second. When he entered, he saw a light on in the rear of the shop. Instead of going upstairs, he walked into the back room sewing area.

"Kolya!" Zarya ran to Nikolai and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nikolai squeezed her shoulders and kissed her temple. Yes, she could be annoying but she was still his little sister and he felt protective of her.

His mother threw him a dark look as she handed Zarya a tray of dirty breakfast dishes. "Zarya, take these upstairs."

As Zarya moved aside to go upstairs, Nikolai saw his father hunched over the Pfaff sewing machine and his older brother, Iakov, at the cutting table pinning a section of fabric and batting together.

Nikolai's mother brushed past him roughly as she followed Zarya out of the room. "They have been working all night to repair the clothing you ruined!"

"The clothing _I_ ruined?" Nikolai lost his temper. "Iakov is the one who has forgotten how to cut a pocket or finish a hem properly."

"Be silent!" Nikolai's mother raised her hand to strike him but Iakov grabbed her before the blow landed.

Iakov glanced over at his father, an unreadable expression on his face. A look passed them between. Finally, their father nodded. He walked over to his wife, took her firmly by the elbow as he spoke to her under his breath and led her to the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder, first to Nikolai and then to Iakov.

"Tell him everything."

Iakov nodded. He watched their parents walk upstairs. Once they were gone, he sat back down and nodded towards the chair across the table from him.

"Come, sit."

Reluctantly, Nikolai pulled the chair out and slouched in it, arms crossed.

"I did nothing wrong."

"Yes, you did." Iakov smiled patiently. "But you did not know what you were doing was wrong." Iakov took off his glasses, wearily rubbed his eyes and sighed as he watched his younger brother. He and his father had tried to shield the rest of the children from what they were doing. Unfortunately, Nikolai's unintentioned carelessness had cost them time they could not afford to lose. They had discussed-argued, really-whether or not to bring Nikolai in. Realistically, the only way they could make up for the lost time would be if they put another pair of hands to work. Iakov put his glasses back on.

"We are helping the Jews."

Nikolai laughed. "We are tailors, what can we do?"

A secretive smile played across Iakov's lips. "You would be surprised. See here?"

Nikolai watched as Iakov unfolded the fabric and batting he had been working on, uncovering a strand of pearls. Iakov ran a frustrated hand through his hair, rumpling his golden brown curls. "We need to find a way to conceal these."

"Why?"

"When the Jews try to leave, the Germans search them, taking any valuables, money, papers they might need so they have to stay." Iakov grabbed an unfinished, double lined pocket and showed it to Nikolai. "An extra layer of lining in a pocket to hide a passport." He flipped over a skirt hem. "An extra fold in the length of a skirt to hide a necklace." He glanced meaningfully at Nikolai.

"They are trusting us with their lives, Kolya."

"I understand, but that is not what I meant."

Puzzled, Iakov watched as Nikolai pulled the pearls free of the batting and draped them loosely as an edging along the collar of a blouse.

"Why hide the pearls inside the clothing? If we sew them here, like so-"

Iakov's eyes lit up as he caught Nikolai's meaning. "-the Germans will think they are fake, used only as ornamentation."

Iakov picked up on Nikolai's example and, taking another small strand, laid them in a loose circle on the back of a lady's glove. He teased a few small pearls free of their strand and placed them in a random, decorative pattern on a cardigan. He glanced over their work then broke into a boyish grin. Laughing, Iakov grabbed Nikolai's shoulders, gave him a friendly shake and quickly kissed him on both cheeks. "Brilliant!"

Nikolai ran his fingers over the pearls, the seriousness of what they were doing sinking in.

"If the Germans find out…"

Iakov rested his arm across Nikolai's shoulders. "If the Germans find out, they will kill us." He finished Nikolai's unspoken thought. "But if they do not-" Iakov tilted Nikolai's face to his, "-the Jews will have a new home waiting for us in America."

"America?" Nikolai repeated in a whisper, shocked at the thought of his family leaving Berlin, the only home they had ever known.

And America was so much further away from Moscow than Berlin.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Wow...92 reviews, 48 faves and 115 alerts...thank you so much!

**"If I Can't Love Her" from Beauty and the Beast. (**Youtube has several versions. The one with the Phantom of the Opera video is especially nice. The "mistakes" in the lyrics I used here are intentional.)

PART 7

"You Neanderthal! You mullet haired, Cheetos scarfing, Jim Carey addicted barbarian!"

Karofsky choked back a laugh, glad that, at least this time, he wasn't the one on the receiving end of Kurt Hummel's tirade. Not that he felt any sympathy for the hockey jock who had just dinged Kurt's car. Karofsky glanced at the damage and winced. A fresh streak of white paint marred the perfect black surface.

"Hey!"

Kurt yelled again, hands on his hips, furious. The hockey player turned around, flipped Kurt off and continued walking to class. Kurt huffed in frustration. When he turned back to inspect his car, his face was crestfallen.

"Want me to beat him up for you?" Karofsky offered. "I can take him. Easy."

Kurt barely registered Karofksy's presence. "How very-" the word "caveman" died unspoken on Kurt's lips when he glanced up and realized the offer was genuine.

"How very-gallant-but completely unnecessary."

"Oh." Karofsky looked disappointed.

"Although-" Kurt watched as Karofsky kicked at the gravel, dislodging a chunk of ice, "-I suppose if someone were to give his Camaro a slushie car wash I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

Karofsky broke into a grin, his face lighting up at Kurt's suggestion. Really, Kurt thought to himself, the idea of Dave Karofsky as his personal evil minion was entirely too tempting.

Kurt shifted his messenger bag onto his shoulder and caught up to Karofsky who had already turned away.

"You're becoming quite the chevalier lately. That means-"

"It's chevalier." Karofsky interrupted, correcting Kurt's pronunciation. "And I know what it means."

"Oh. I see." Kurt bit back his irritation at Karofsky's correction.

"I'm not a fucking knight, Hummel. I just felt like punching somebody."

"Well, as much as I appreciate your willingness to do bodily harm to another human being on behalf of Baby, if you really feel like hitting someone, maybe you should call your sponsor."

"My sponsor?"

As they entered the school, Kurt lowered his voice. "For anger management?"

Karofsky's jaw tightened.

Kurt gave him a companionable smile. "I know you haven't talked about it much-well, at all really-but it wasn't that hard to figure out."

"Is that right?"

Kurt leaned in, keeping his voice low. "If it were drugs or alcohol, Coach Beiste would have kicked you off the team." He continued tentatively. "And…don't think I haven't noticed the lack of face time with the lockers. I have. You've recognized that you have a problem, you're taking steps to address it." Kurt exhaled slowly. "And I admire you for making the effort."

"Got it all figured out, huh?"

Kurt looked smug. "I do have my moments of brilliance."

Karofsky shoved Kurt into a wall of lockers. "For a smart guy? You're pretty fucking clueless."

Stunned, Kurt watched Karofsky walk away, hurt more by the sudden change in Karofsky's attitude than the actual shove.

"Karofsky!"

Karofsky turned to see Coach Beiste helping Kurt to his feet. Sheepishly, he walked back to join them.

"What's up, Coach?"

"Did I just see you shove Hummel?"

"What? Naw. My hand slipped." Karofsky threw Kurt a pleading look. "Right, Kurt?"

"You pushed me."

Coach Beiste crossed her arms and fixed Karofsky with a steely gaze.

"Apologize."

Karofsky glanced around, uneasy with the looks he was getting from students slowing down to see what was going on.

"…sorry, homo…"

Karofsky's head snapped up as soon as he realized his mistake.

"Hummel! I meant Hummel, honest!"

"Pretty lame, Karofsky."

Kurt watched the conversation between Karofsky and Coach Beiste with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. Finally! Finally, after all of the slushies and gay slurs and locker shoves, someone at McKinley High was stepping up and confronting Karofsky about his behavior.

Maybe he would pay for it later, but for now, Kurt was enjoying every moment of Karofsky's humiliation.

"In Glee, we'd apologize by singing."

Karofsky flashed Kurt a look of pure hate. But Coach Beiste nodded, liking Kurt's idea.

"Sounds good. When and where?"

Kurt smirked. "No time like the present."

Karofsky backed away, shaking his head. "No way. I am not singing to Hummel in the middle of the freaking school!"

"Fine, Karofsky, I can be gracious enough to let you apologize to me in the choir room."

"Coach?"

"You'll do it or you'll be explaining to your dad why you're going to be in detention until you graduate."

* * *

Will Schue looked up from the sheet music he was holding as Kurt, Coach Beiste and Karofsky entered. Kurt walked straight to the back row, set his messenger bag down, and crossed his legs waiting for the entertainment to begin. Karofsky hovered near the doorway.

"Guys, what's up?"

"Karofsky needs to apologize to Kurt."

Mr. Schue glanced over at Karofsky who was toeing the door jamb, obviously uncomfortable.

"Okay, but I'm not sure I understand why-"

"In song."

Will's eyes widened. "Really?" He asked Kurt, who nodded. He took a seat next to Coach Beiste. "The floor's all yours, Dave."

Karofsky ran a hand nervously through his hair as he settled onto a stool in the center of the room. He checked the clock, wondering if he could just wait it out until the bell rang.

"Any time, Karofsky, I've got all day."

"I only know one song." He kicked his heels against the stool, stalling. "From 'Beauty and the Beast.'"

"How apropos." Kurt commented drolly.

"Not sure if I've got the words right."

"Just try, Dave." Mr. Schue gave him an encouraging nod.

Karofsky took a breath and sang.

_And in my twisted face_

_There's not the slightest trace_

_Of anything that even hints at kindness_

A trio of Cheerios passed the door and, seeing Karofsky inside, stopped to blow him a kiss and say in a unified singsong voice, "We love you, gay Dave!"

Kurt did a double take at the girls and then at Karofsky who faltered, flustered by the interruption. Wordlessly, Kurt closed both of the choir room doors. He took his seat and nodded at Karofsky to continue.

_Hopeless_

_As my dream dies_

_As the time flies_

_Love a lost illusion_

Without the noise from the hallway, Karofsky began to relax, his voice becoming steadier. Kurt closed his eyes and listened. Obviously, he wasn't as good as Kurt or-Kurt grudgingly admitted-Rachel. But with some training, Karofsky could actually be quite good.

_Helpless_

_Unforgiven_

_Cold and driven_

_To this sad conclusion_

Kurt opened his eyes. He had the feeling the song had suddenly become something much more personal to Karofsky.

_No beauty could move me_

_No goodness improve me_

_How I could have love her_

_and made her love me too_

_If I can't love her, then who?_

_Long ago I should have seen_

_All the things I could have been_

_Careless and unthinking,_

_I moved onward_

Karofsky held Kurt's gaze. Kurt shivered, rubbing at the sudden goosebumps on his arms.

_No spirit could win me_

_No hope left within me_

_Hope I could have loved her and that she'd set me free_

_But it's not to be_

_If I can't love her_

_Let the world be done with me._

The song ended and Mr. Schue was the first to his feet.

"Dave, that was-"

Karofsky licked his lips. "Yeah, I know. It sucked." He glanced over Will's shoulder to Coach Beiste. "Can I go now, Coach?"

Coach Beiste looked to Kurt to see if he was satisfied. Kurt nodded and Karofsky hurried out the door without looking back.

Kurt watched him go, still musing over his performance. He shouldered his messenger bag and prepared to leave as well. He paused to thank Coach Beiste and added, "You should have him apologize like that more often."

* * *

"Karofsky?" Mercedes linked her arm with Kurt's as they left the school.

"Karofsky."

"Sang?"

Kurt smiled and patted her hand, comfortable with her closeness. "Sadly, he has no idea how good he really is."

"Kurt." Mercedes stopped to get his attention. "It's Karofsky. He's not going to walk into Glee tomorrow, hold hands with us and sing khumbayah."

"Mm, I suppose not, but still-. Oh. My."

Kurt stared at the white Camaro parked next to his SUV. Dozens of multi-colored slushies had been dumped on the car. With the below freezing temperature, the end result was a colorful rainbow of solid ice covering the car from hood to trunk.

Laughing, Kurt tightened his scarf, grabbed Mercedes' arm and started singing.

"Baby, it's cold outside…"

* * *

"It is done. Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky is dead, his life ended by my own hand. "

Karofsky paused as he worked through the next line.

"It was a good death."

A heavy silence fell between Kurt and Karofsky, each lost in his own thoughts over Klaus Hummel's journal entry.

"Told you so." Karofsky murmured hollowly. He had just proven that Kurt's grandfather had killed his great-uncle. He had always imagined how great this moment would be, finally wiping that oh so superior smirk off of Hummel's face. Funny how the reality didn't feel all that great. In fact, Karofsky thought to himself, the reality felt pretty damn shitty.

Kurt Hummel definitely wasn't smirking now. He sat in the attic across from Karofsky, holding photos of him and his grandfather and quietly cried. Kurt looked blankly at the photos in his hand. He couldn't reconcile the man who was showing Kurt how to gel his hair with the man who had killed the supposed love of his life.

"He was such a great grandfather."

"So was Mengele." Karofsky hated himself for blurting that out. Hated hearing Kurt's breath hitch at his harsh words. Most of all, Karofsky hated himself for hoping that Kurt had been right, that maybe in some weird twist of fate Kolya had known some happiness with Klaus before he died.

That maybe in some weird twist of fate that locker room kiss with Kurt could come to mean something to both of them. Karofsky flushed with guilt. Something more memorable than the horrified expression on Hummel's face after he had pulled away.

Karofsky slammed his fist against the attic floor. "Fuck!"

"Why are you surprised?" Kurt wiped at his eyes, sniffling. "Isn't this what you expected?"

"I always thought it was kind of a general thing, y'know?" Karofsky ran a hand through his hair. "Round up all the homos and ship them off to be killed." His lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. "I never thought it was a personal hatred. I never thought Klaus made a point of killing Nikolai himself."

Karofsky was quiet for a moment. "I can't imagine getting killed for being gay."

"I can, I live with that fear every day."

"Seriously?"

"You threatened to kill me." Kurt said carefully, uncertain of where this conversation might lead.

Karofsky blinked in surprise. "You think I would?"

Kurt met his gaze evenly. "Would you?" He chewed his lip. "I don't know, Karofsky. I don't _know _and that terrifies me. You've almost knocked me off the stairs twice. You shoved me into my locker when the door was open and the corner almost cut my eye. Do you even realize how close you've come to seriously hurting me?"

Kurt looked down. "Do you even care?"

* * *

"Karofsky!"

Finn Hudson tapped on Karofsky's helmet to get his attention as they broke their football huddle.

"Dude, come on. Get your head in the game."

Karofsky nodded as he trotted into position. He tried not to glance over to the sidelines where Kurt stood with the other Cheerios ready to take the field for the half-time show. Instead, he settled into position against Giants #33. Karofsky figured #33 outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Good.

The count. The snap. The football was hiked back to Finn. The Giants player drove forward and and Karofsky met him with equal force, digging in and driving back just as hard. It hurt. Karofsky welcomed the pain as a distraction from his thoughts. He caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Kurt.

_You threatened to kill me._

_Do you even realize how close you've come to seriously hurting me?_

Suddenly, #33 pushed hard against Karofsky, creating an opening for Finn to be tackled. Finn cursed and hurriedly fired the football off in a sloppy throw. The ball bounced off the receiver's fingertips.

Finn glared at Karofsky as the Titans huddled again. "I'm gonna run it." He grabbed Karofsky's jersey. "You let that asshole through again, I will own you, Karofsky."

Karofsky pushed him off. "Touch me again and I'll be the one taking you down."

Puck bumped shoulders with Karofsky but Artie wheeled between them before the aggression could escalate into a fight.

Finn clapped his hands once, the signal to break the huddle and the Titans assumed their positions for the next play. Karofsky shoved his mouth guard in and bit down. He was not going to think about Kurt Hummel. He was going to focus on nailing #33 and, exra fifty pounds or not, he would shove him down to the goalposts if he had to to give Finn a clear shot at a touchdown.

Again the count. The snap. Finn faked left then bolted to the right. Karofsky rushed forward to block #33. And he kept after him. He pushed, shoved, drove into the heavier Giants player with everything he had to protect Finn and the ball. Finally, he was able to get his shoulder into position and forced hard against #33. He felt the other player give way and suddenly they were both off balance and falling full speed out of bounds.

And, too late to stop, Karofsky realized where they were.

Five hundred pounds of football jocks in full gear crashed headlong into Kurt Hummel in his Cheerios uniform.

The football field fell silent, stunned. Karofsky felt his weight crushing Kurt. He struggled to get up but #33 still pinned him down. Furious, Karofsky yanked his helmet off and smacked the Giants player with it.

"Get off!"

Suddenly, noise erupted on every side of Karofsky. Coach Sylvester was yelling in his face. Coach Beiste was at his back hauling first the Giants player and then Karofsky himself off of Kurt.

Karofsky looked around and saw Finn a few yards away, helmet off, mouth open, face pale. They locked eyes and then Finn ran towards Karofsky. Puck met up with him and both boys tackled Karofsky to the ground. Finn got one solid punch in before Karofsky rolled over and had him pinned. Puck landed a kick in Karofsky's side before Coach Beiste pulled them apart.

Karofsky scrambled to his feet. He glanced over and saw Kurt. Eyes closed. Unmoving.

_Do you even care?_

Fuck, yes, he cared.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **I'll be honest, the Japan earthquake and Kurtofsky hate got me a little down this week.

* * *

PART 8

For the third time in a week, Karofsky drove to Kurt Hummel's house. For the third time, he parked across the street. And for the third time, Kurt watched from his window as Karofsky eventually drove off without coming to the door.

Mercedes leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Was that your boy again?"

Kurt rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the window.

"Karofsky is hardly 'my boy'."

"I don't know, Baby." Mercedes sat down at Kurt's vanity. "That's the second time he's been by."

"Third, actually."

Mercedes raised her eyebrows. "_Three_ times? Mm, mm, mm." She gave Kurt a playful look. "And he slushied a car for you, Kurt."

"Oh, my, a slushied car." Kurt smirked, going along with Mercedes' teasing. "It must be true love!" Giggling, he flopped on his bed, flung his arms out and arched his back. "Should I offer him my maidenly virtue?" He gave Mercedes an over the top sexy pout.

"Kurt?" Burt Hummel stood in the doorway, speechless at seeing his son sprawled across the bed…that…way.

"Dad!" Kurt sat up quickly, then cried out as he grabbed his side, bruised ribs painfully reminding him he was still healing. Instantly, Burt was on one side and Mercedes on the other, carefully supporting Kurt between the two of them. Kurt bit back tears. Fuck, that hurt!

After a moment, he let out a slow breath and nodded his reassurance to his dad and his best friend. Burt handed over the two pills he had brought up.

"Time for your pain medicine."

Kurt nodded. He grabbed his bottled water, took the pills and chased them down with a long drink.

"Thanks."

Burt stood to leave, but he eyed Kurt and Mercedes for a moment.

"Don't overdo…whatever the hell it is you're doing."

Kurt nodded as Burt walked out. He shared a look with Mercedes and then she plopped on the bed next to him as they both fell into a laughing fit.

"Boy, you are gonna give him another heart attack!"

Mercedes scooted up to the headboard and Kurt snuggled comfortably against her shoulder.

"Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"For real, about Karofsky."

"Yes?"

"Well…you're laughing about him…_joking_ about him…it's kinda like you're not even scared of him now."

Kurt considered Mercedes comments, surprised to realize she was right. He was still reserved about Karofsky, cautious, but the fear wasn't there any more. He was quiet for a few more moments as he thought through his feelings, figuring out what had changed.

"For a long time, I've been so terrified of Karofsky physically hurting me. I think-when he tackled me-it was as if everything I feared would happen did. The look on his face when he hit me. The pain. All of it."

Mercedes rubbed his arm. "But this time, it really wasn't his fault." She ventured softly, unsure of what her bff was thinking.

Kurt nodded. "My point is, the accident scared me, it hurt me but it's over now and I survived." He flashed Mercedes a smile as he hugged her to him. "The fear of Karofsky hurting me isn't an unknown bogeyman any more."

Mercedes leaned over and grabbed the eye balm she had brought. She uncapped it and, after getting a nod of approval from Kurt, carefully applied the healing cream to Kurt's black eye.

"You know, when his face isn't all scrunched up and scowling, he has a really cute smile."

"Karofsky?"

Mercedes carefully dabbed more cream onto Kurt's scraped cheek. "And sexay eyes."

"Dave 'The Fury' Karofsky?"

Mercedes nudged Kurt's shoulder "Betcha if he ever fell in love, he'd be a big ol' teddy bear."

Kurt snorted. "Yeah, a big ol' teddy bear…once you get past the death threats." Kurt nudged her back. "Maybe _you_ should ask him out."

Mercedes giggled. "Actually…" She gave Kurt a sly look, "…word at McKinley is he's playing for your team."

Kurt stilled, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. "That-that really isn't something you should joke about, 'Cedes."

Mercedes recapped the cream and set it aside. "Baby, I don't think it's a joke. Too many people are sayin' the same thing." Mercedes looked Kurt in the eye. "I think Dave Karofsky might be gay."

* * *

"You're gonna compare my classic Goat to your craptastic Ram? Seriously?" Karofsky shook his head, laughing. "Dude, stop, you're embarrassing yourself."

Karofsky lined up another shot on the pool table, took it and easily sunk a ball into a side pocket.

"I'm tellin' you, that truck is great for gettin' a little somethin'-somethin' from the ladies."

Karofsky glanced at Zimmerman, a/k/a/ Zee, with his shaggy blonde hair and broken nose.

"Yeah, bet that swastika sticker in the window is a real chick magnet." Karofsky scoffed.

"Besides-" He paused long enough to wink at the cute waitress who had been "accidentally" brushing against him all night. "-do I look like I need help tapping a piece of ass when I want it?"

"The sticker was there when I bought it." Zee was getting whiny and Karofsky was getting bored with giving him a hard time about his truck.

Karofsky walked around the table setting up another shot. So far Luke, Zee's companion, with his buzzed, carrot colored hair and blue eyes had focused on the game and let Zee do all of the talking. Karofsky's shot missed. As Luke stepped up to the table to shoot, he finally spoke.

"Bottom line, Karofsky, you in or out?"

Karofsky chalked his cue, watching Luke set up his shot. "I'm not gonna buy your faggy red and orange truck with the queer ass flames. But Azimio might buy the rims."

"The nig-?"

Karofsky silenced Zee with a look of cold fury. "Is that a problem?"

"Get outta my face."

"I already broke your nose once, Zee. Happy to come back for seconds."

Zee swallowed nervously. "That was an accident-a freak puck shot, Karofsky."

"Is that right?" Karofsky's voice was deceptively calm.

Zee held his hands up in surrender. "Chill man, just makin' sure we're talkin' about the same dude. Geez, Karofsky, what next? You gonna start stickin' up for all the McSwishys in the world?"

"McSwishy?"

"The tire guy's kid." Luke clarified.

Karofsky realized they were talking about Kurt and his mood quickly soured. He set his pool stick back in the rack. He grabbed a napkin, wrote down a phone number and handed it to Luke.

"Azimio's cell."

"So-what-we're done here?"

Karofsky threw a few bills on the table to pay for his Coke and a decent tip before he headed for the door.

"Yeah, I'm done."

* * *

When Karofsky walked out to his car, he was surprised to see Burt Hummel, Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman waiting for him. He tensed, hands curling  
into loose fists at his sides. He eyed Burt warily as the older man stepped forward.

"What do you want?"

"I said before I wasn't gonna stand for you bullying my kid."

"So, what, it takes three of you to jump me?"

"Let me finish, smart ass."

Karofsky crossed his arms. "So finish already."

"Like I said, you're not gonna bully my kid. But fair is fair. And I'm not gonna let any kid of mine-" Burt looked sharply at Finn, who was sheepishly staring at his feet, "-or one of his buddies-", Puckerman turned red, "-hit you when it's out of line."

Burt pushed Finn forward.

"So…uhm…I didn't actually see what happened during the game." Finn stammered. "I looked over. Kurt was on the ground. You were on top of him." He nervously cleared his throat. He glanced back at Burt who nodded for him to continue. "I shouldn't have punched you. I'm sorry, dude. Really."

Finn held out his hand. "We cool, Karofsky?"

Karofsky nodded and shook Finn's hand.

Puck stepped forward. "It was kind of an awesome block, dude."

"Yeah!" Finn agreed, breaking into a genuine grin. "Except for the part where Kurt got hurt."

"Noah." Burt prompted Puck.

"Right." Puckerman held a hand out to Karofsky. "Sorry I kicked you."

Karofsky accepted Puck's handshake, too, and Burt seemed satisfied.

"You and Kurt still workin' on that history project?"

"Yeah-yes, sir."

Burt nodded. He wasn't thrilled about Karofsky being around Kurt, but as long as Kurt was okay with it and Karofsky seemed to be making an effort to behave, he would meet him halfway.

"Maybe next time you're over, we can talk Kurt into ordering a pizza."

"Sounds good." Karofsky wasn't sure what the hell had just happened. Finn and Puck had apologized and now Kurt's dad was being…polite.

"One more thing."

"What?"

"Get some air in that right front tire, it's riding low."

Karofsky glanced at the tire then back to Burt. "…thanks..."

* * *

Kurt stood at his locker, frozen, eyes locked with Karofsky a few feet away. It was an accident. He knew that Karofsky crashing into him had been accident. Still, he couldn't forget the angry, determined look on Karofsky's face right before he hit. And it had _hurt_. Kurt took a steadying breath. Reflexively, he put a hand to his side as his muscles spasmed.

Karofsky looked lost as he stood in the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, a quick, nervous flick of tongue over his lips. But, Kurt realized, he hadn't tried to come any closer.

Karofsky never saw the hockey jocks rush him from behind, but Kurt did. Kurt hurriedly closed his locker and backed away as the puckheads slammed Karofsky into the row of lockers where Kurt had just been standing. Kurt recognized one of the teens as the driver of the white Camaro.

"Think you're gonna fuck up my car, you goddamn fag?"

They slammed Karofsky against the lockers again.

"Fucking queer!"

Stunned, it took Kurt a moment to realize that this attack had moved beyond the normal McKinley High shove and dash locker slam. And then the words they were using against Karofsky began to register. Fag. Queer. Homo. Buttfucker.

And then the way they were handling Karofsky began to register.

They were…groping…him. Karofsky made a noise low in his throat as he bucked against the unwanted hands shoved up under shirt, down his pants-front and back-, pinning his face while several of the jocks made a joke of trying to French kiss him.

Furious, Kurt turned on the first hockey jock close enough to reach and slammed his messenger bag into the stunned teen's face giving him a nosebleed. Karofsky broke free and sent two more running with cut lips and swollen eyes. Kurt stepped protectively in front of Karofsky, messenger bag gripped tightly, ready to swing again.

Realizing that half of their team was already gone, the rest of the puckheads took off as well.

Shaking from anger and exhaustion, Karofsky rested his head against the nearest locker.

"Thanks, it's not usually that bad."

"This has happened before?"

Karofsky opened his eyes and shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"You shouldn't have to handle it!"

Kurt gasped at the sudden twinge in his side. Karofsky leaned over and tugged Kurt's shirt up to look at his bruised ribs. A look of guilt flashed in his eyes as he took in the mottled area. Not thinking, he ran his fingers over Kurt's skin, trying to see for himself how bad the injury really was. Kurt shivered under his touch and flinched away. Thinking he had caused Kurt more pain, Karofsky instantly pulled back.

"Sorry…for, you know, everything."

Kurt still felt the ghost of Karofsky's caress. "It was an accident…but thank you." He laid a hand on Karofsky's arm. "Come by later, we'll talk." Kurt smirked. "And by come by? I mean get your butt out of the car and actually come to the door this time."

Karofsky blushed. "You saw me."

"All three times."

Karofsky relaxed. Apparently Kurt didn't know he had been stopping by every night since the accident.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **You guys are so awesome! Here's a quick "thank you for making me feel better" chapter. Next chapter-Klaus and Kolya!

PART 9

"When was the last time you cut?"

Karofsky swallowed his bite of cheeseburger and sipped his Coke, not looking up at his sponsor sitting across the table. "Dude, I don't-"

"David."

"Thought what was said in peer group was supposed to stay in peer group." Karofsky complained. He grabbed several fries, pushed them around the ketchup and shoved them in his mouth.

"Normally, yes. Unless the information provided concerns a risk to your health."

"It's been a while."

"When?"

Karofsky shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing important. "Maybe a week ago."

"After the football game?"

"Yeah."

The sponsor drummed his fingers slowly on the table as he studied Karofsky. "Because of your feelings for him?"

Karofsky threw his sandwich down and finally met his sponsor's eyes. "I thought I had fucking killed him!"

"You stopped taking your medicine again." It wasn't a question. The sponsor could tell from Karofsky's appetite and demeanor that he wasn't taking the lithium that had been prescribed.

"I can't take that crap." Karofsky sighed. "I get shakes. I puke all day. I keep falling asleep in class." Karofsky fidgeted with the straw in his soft drink. "And I feel like a fucking zombie-all dead inside."

"You know the sacrifices your mother is making to keep you in our program." Karofsky felt a wave of guilt. "I think she deserves to see more effort and progress on your part."

Karofsky scooted out of the fast food booth. "I gotta get back to class. Thanks…for meeting me."

The sponsor put a hand on his shoulder. Karofsky hated it when he did that. After the pat on the shoulder always came the plastic smile and fake concern. "You know I'm here any time you need me, David." And then the little extra squeeze to his shoulder. "Take your pills."

Karofsky gave an absent-minded nod and left quickly.

* * *

"Finn. Seamus. Hudson."

The choir room fell silent as Kurt entered and walked angrily towards his stepbrother Finn. Artie, who had been chatting with Finn and Sam, knew that look on Kurt's face and quickly wheeled out of the line of fire.

"You told people Karofsky's gay?" Kurt huffed, setting his messenger bag down in the nearest chair.

Finn crossed his arms. "He started it."

"Really?" Kurt had his hands on his hips, eyes never leaving Finn's.

"Dude, he totally did." Puck spoke up, taking Finn's side.

"Kind of." Mike added unhappily under his breath.

"Please, enlighten me. When and where did Dave Karofsky say you were gay, Finn?"

"We were in a huddle during a football game."

"And-?" Kurt prompted impatiently.

Finn squirmed in his chair. "He call you my butt buddy."

Kurt felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "I see. And the only people who heard him were your friends who I'm pretty certain didn't believe him. Right?"

Finn nodded. "I did it for you, Kurt."

"Me?"

"The slushies, the locker shoves…I wanted Karofsky to see what it felt like." Finn met Kurt's gaze, unapologetic. "I'm not sorry for that."

"So your idea of protecting me is to out someone else for the bullies to pick on?"

Finn frowned, puzzled. "It's not like I really outed him if he's not gay, right?"

"Not the point, Finn!" Kurt snapped quickly, realizing he had almost outed Karofsky himself. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, then looked back at Finn with a sigh. "I appreciate that you're trying to look out for me. But this isn't the way to do it. Can you just…please…stop the rumors about Karofsky."

* * *

Karofsky pulled up in Kurt's driveway, got out and was heading to the front door when Kurt came around the side of the house.

"Karofsky."

Karofsky came down the steps and met Kurt on the sidewalk. "What's up?"

"I'm glad you felt like working on the diary again."

Karofsky looked down, suddenly shy. "I kinda had a favor to ask you."

"Oh?"

"I've been struggling with some of the translation. I'd like to borrow the diary for a weekend to show somebody. Maybe get some help with it."

"Who?"

"Nana Zarya."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Zarya's still alive?" He gave Karofsky a look. "Think maybe you could have mentioned that a little sooner?"

Karofsky ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah…sorry. I've been kinda distracted with…stuff."

Kurt gave him a reassuring smile. "I think it would be wonderful to meet Zarya."

"You're coming, too?"

"Can we take the GTO?"

"Sure, whatever."

Kurt looked at Karofsky's car mischievously. "Can I drive?"

Karofsky laughed. "No way in hell, Hummel."

A gunshot sounded from the back yard, startling them both. Immediately, Karofsky darted for Kurt.

"Karofsky!"

Kurt squeaked as Karofsky grabbed Kurt and pulled him to the ground. He positioned himself to take the brunt of the fall, using his body to cushion Kurt as they went down.

Kurt opened his mouth to tell Karofsky that everything was okay, they weren't really in danger. But at that moment, he looked up and was startled to be so close to Karofsky's gold flecked hazel eyes. He found his breath to speak but Karofsky shifted and Kurt's leg slid between Karofsky's thighs.

Instead of "Karofsky, it's okay." what actually came out was an embarrassingly gasped,

"…dave…!"

Karofsky rolled them to the side and curled protectively around Kurt, using his body as a shield. One hand cradled Kurt's head against his chest.

"Stay down!"

Two more shots. Karofsky tightened his grip on Kurt. Kurt had one hand pressed to Karofsky's chest and the other on Karofsky's shoulder. It was a nice shoulder. Kurt moved his palm down to Karofsky's well defined biceps. He made a noise low in his throat as Karofsky's pelvis bumped against his. Kurt's eyes flew to Karofsky's face, wondering if that had been intentional.

But Karofsky was oblivious to Kurt's physical reactions . He was half raised, listening. After several moments of silence, Karofsky was on his feet and pulled Kurt up with him. Before Kurt could get to his feet, Karofsky slung him over one shoulder and was carrying him to his car.

"Take my car. Get outta here. I'll check on your dad."

"Kurt-?"

Burt Hummel came around the side of the house with his shotgun. He stopped short at seeing his son flung over Karofsky's shoulder. His grip on the gun tightened. First, there had been that awkward moment seeing Kurt on the bed and now this.

"Start talking."

"I think he's trying to save me."

Burt glanced around the front yard, looking for potential threats.

"From what?"

"Apparently from you." Kurt chuckled. "He heard you shooting."

"Oh." Burt nodded, that seemed…plausible. More so than anything he could think of at the moment. He cleared his throat. "Pretty sure Kurt can stand on his own, Karofsky."

Karofsky lowered Kurt to his feet, keeping a cautious eye on Burt and his shotgun. Burt caught his look.

"Just practicing with some clay pigeons out back. You shoot?"

Karofsky shook his head. Burt could tell he was still a little spooked. He forgot sometimes that not everyone was as comfortable around guns as he was.

"Why don't I put this up and we'll order pizza?"

Karofsky visibly relaxed and even managed a smile. As they walked into the house, Kurt threw Karofsky a winsome look over his shoulder.

"My hero!"

"See if I ever save your life again." Karofsky grumbled good naturedly.

Kurt chuckled warmly. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm endangered by a flock of clay pigeons."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Warning: **This chapter includes the first detailed Sachsenhausen concentration camp scene. I've put a scene in before it as a bumper so no one is accidentally exposed to upsetting material. But the story is marked M for a reason. From this point on, there are gong to be darker scenes.

Specifically in this chapter, mustard gas experiments and sexual arousal from pain.

Whew…long, tough chapter but I hope it works. And I hope you like it!

* * *

PART 10

**Berlin, Late Summer of 1936**

Nikolai woke to the smell of fresh coffee and filtered light from the midday sun brightening Klaus' studio. The smell of sauerbraten and potato dumplings woke his stomach as well. Nikolai stretched, then settled his arm back around Klaus' shoulders. A moment later, he fuzzily realized that Klaus was still curled up next to him, head pressed to his chest, snoring lightly. So who was cooking?

Nikolai opened his eyes and saw two women in the kitchen. One, a petite brunette with dark eyes and an easy laugh. The other had honey colored hair, blue eyes and full, sensuous lips. They chatted in soft tones as they worked in the kitchen. It was obvious from the surety of their movements that they were quite comfortable being in Klaus' studio.

Klaus murmured sleepily. He finally stirred and opened his eyes, greeting Nikolai with a knowing smile and quick kiss.

"My beautiful boy…"

"We have company."

"Oh?"

At that moment, the brunette noticed they were awake. She walked over, leaned across Nikolai and playfully kissed Klaus as she rumpled his hair. He grinned as she pulled away.

"Elfi!"

He quickly grabbed her wrists, pulling her off balance and tumbling her into the bed for another kiss. Nikolai was forced to move over and finally out of the bed. Scowling, he took his clothes to the bathroom to get dressed. When he returned, Klaus and Elfi were still in bed. He was nuzzling her neck. A moment later, she threw her head back, laughing at whatever he had said.

There was an easy companionship between them that Nikolai envied. An intimacy born of years of friendship. He wondered if he and Klaus would ever have that level of familiarity. Those knowing looks and secret laughs over experiences only they had shared.

The blonde came up to Nikolai, slipped her arm in his and tugged him towards the kitchen.

"They have been apart many months. Let them have their moment. Yes?"

She settled Nikolai into a seat and brought him a plate of food. "I am Sofia."

"Nikolai."

Sofia prepared a plate for herself and settled comfortably across from Nikolai. She patted his hand, smiling warmly.

"It is not easy to see one's lover in another's arms."

"No, it is not." Nikolai stabbed a fork into his food. He had quickly lost interest in eating. He looked at Sofia, suddenly understanding the meaning in what she had said.

"You and Elfi?"

"Have a-special-relationship, yes." She watched Elfi and Klaus, genuinely happy to see them reunited. "Whatever we are to them, we will never be what they are to each other."

"It does not bother you to see them so?"

Sofia shrugged delicately. "She is happy. And at the end of the day, I know it is my bed she will be in, not his."

At that moment, Klaus got out of bed, pulling Elfi to her feet as well and they joined Sofia and Nikolai in the kitchen. Elfi approached Nikolai. She smiled as she greeted him, hands held out to take his.

"You must be Kolya."

Nikolai crossed his arms, eyeing her coolly.

"You do not know me well enough to call me by that name."

"Nikolai, you are being rude!" Klaus chastised him.

"Is that so? I am being rude? I did not bring a woman to our bed!"

"Elfi is my fiancee. You know this."

He did know. Klaus had been very clear about his relationship with Elfi. But Elfi had not seemed real to Nikolai. Klaus spoke of her-and with affection-but she was a chanteuse in Paris and far removed from the day to day reality of their lives. Until now.

"Apologize, Nikolai."

"Klaus, it is not necessary." Elfi laid a hand on his arm. "Please, sit. Nikolai and I can become better acquainted over our meal."

Klaus had not taken his eyes off of Nikolai. "He will apologize or he will leave. I will not tolerate petulant, childish behavior from one who should know better."

"Klaus, no!" Elfi pleaded, clearly upset to be the cause of friction between Klaus and Nikolai.

Nikolai stood, shoved his chair hard against the table and spoke sharply to Elfi.

"I do not need you to defend me!"

He walked out, closing the door harder than he intended. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he thought he heard Klaus call his name. Nikolai kept walking.

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Late Summer of 1936**

"We need more Russians."

Dachs nodded absently, barely acknowledging Dr. Heinz Baumkotter's repeated request as he toured the Infirmary at Sachsenhausen. He had quickly tired of the SS doctor's presence. However, listening to Dr. Baumkotter's prattle was the only feasible way he could have complete access to the Infirmary and Pathology areas, especially the mustard gas ward he was anxious to see.

"For the cold endurance tests." Dr. Baumkotter said, yet again.

"Unfortunately, Dr. Baumkotter-" Dachs explained impatiently, "-the qualities that make the Russians so suitable for your experiments are the same qualities which make them so desirable for the Klinkerwerk brick factory. They are quite a durable people."

They were near the mustard gas area. Dachs heard the pleading, whimpering moans and had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from crying out at how hard he had become. They reached the ward. He stood transfixed behind the protective glass.

Dr. Baumkotter adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit he had had since childhood and now, as the SS chief doctor of Sachsenhausen, relied on more than ever to calm himself. He was trying to impress upon Sgt. Dachs Schultz the importance of his cooperation in supplying them with appropriate subjects for their experiments. He noted Dachs' interest in the mustard gas trials. Perhaps if he played to those interests, he could get the sergeant to finally send them more Russians.

"As you see, Sgt. Schultz, these prisoners have been subjected to mustard gas burns. The burns are then contaminated with ground glass and dirt to encourage infection. Once infected, we expose the subjects to various antibiotics to determine which are most effective."

Dachs watched as a doctor lanced a burn blister then applied the rough glass mixture and rubbed it into the freshly opened wound. The patient screamed. He twisted against the straps holding him down, bucking against his restraints until he collapsed with a sobbing moan. Dachs licked his lips. He wondered how it would feel to have such a man beneath him, broken glass grinding between them as he forced himself in, feeling that body struggling against his. He closed his eyes and shuddered. The prisoner's quiet whimper nearly brought him to climax.

Dr. Baumkotter mistook Dachs' shudder as one of revulsion, not sexual arousal. He cleared his throat to get the sergeant's attention. "Perhaps we should move on."

Reluctantly, Dachs followed the doctor to the cold water tank immersion area.

* * *

**Berlin, Late Summer of 1936**

Nikolai sat nervously with his mother in the reception area of the Reich Central Office for the Combating of Homosexuality and Abortion. He had not known such a place existed. Not until yesterday when two SS officers appeared at their shop with a summons from a Sgt. Dachs Schultz. They were directed to present themselves at his office at 9:00 a.m. today. Nikolai glanced at the clock. Again. It was nearing 9:30.

"You will be the death of us!" His mother whispered, keeping her voice low so only Nikolai could hear. Her pale hands knotted together, her anxiety evident.

"I am not the one discussing our business in the center of an SS office." Nikolai whispered back, just as upset.

Finally, the receptionist called their names. She led them down the hallway to Sgt. Schultz's office. Dachs greeted them cordially even holding the chair for Frau Karofsky and politely offering her tea. To Nikolai, he merely nodded and gestured for him to take the empty chair next to his mother.

Dachs sat behind his desk, templed his fingers together and studied the Karofskys. He had observed Nikolai from a distance, but this was his first chance to examine him closely. Nikolai was of a good height. Muscular. Appeared quite healthy. Russian. He would be an excellent specimen for Dr. Baumkotter if Dachs chose to offer him as such.

However, Dachs was not so quickly inclined to give away such a prize. He looked deep into Nikolai's gold flecked hazel eyes. They did not compare to Klaus Hummel's, of course, still, Dachs had no doubt he would find great pleasure in adding those eyes to his personal collection of trophies.

And if Klaus were there watching as Dachs defiled his lover, so much the better.

Dachs turned his thoughts from possibility to practicality and addressed the matter at hand.

"Unfortunately, Frau Karofsky, your son has been observed associating with a suspected homophile." He glanced at Nikolai, who was blushing. "On several occasions."

"Is he under arrest?"

"Arrest is certainly a possibility. However, I would like to propose an alternative. The Sachsenhausen program utilizes a strict work ethic and precise scientific treatments to cure the homophilic affliction. The success rate for youths of your son's age are excellent."

"Cured? I am not ill." Nikolai protested.

Dachs smiled compassionately at Nikolai. "You are but you do not realize it." He turned back to Frau Karofsky. "Denial is part of the sickness."

Nikolai's mother nodded in agreement.

"Unfortunately, the longer one has suffered, the more resilient the disease is to even our best efforts. I am anxious to see Nikolai entered into the program immediately so that he may have the greatest chance of being cured."

"Of course, Herr Schultz."

Dachs dismissed Frau Karofsky's failure to address him by his rank as ignorance on her part. It was a small detail to overlook if it brought him closer to having Nikolai.

"I am not ill!" Nikolai raised his voice.

"Nikolai!" Frau Karofsky raised her voice as well.

"Frau Karofsky, may I have a moment alone with your son? If you would like to wait outside, I will see that the receptionist refreshes your tea."

Nikolai's mother gave him a warning look before she allowed Sgt. Schultz to walk her to the door and back into the waiting area. When he returned, Dachs closed the door and then came back to lean against the front of his desk, closer to Nikolai.

He opened his cigarette case, offered one to Nikolai, who declined, then took one for himself. He lit the cigarette. He inhaled slowly, then blew a ring of smoke into the air.

"Klaus Hummel."

"He is one of Frau Klein's customers." Nikolai had his arms crossed, eyes wary as he watched Dachs.

Dachs chuckled. "We do not need to pretend, you and I. He was my lover once, too." Nikolai looked skeptical. "He has a scar, here, on the inside of his thigh." Dachs didn't add that he was the one who had caused the scar.

Dachs blew out another puff of smoke.

"Did he promise to take you to Paris? Barcelona, perhaps? For me it was to be a grand tour of Italy to study the Renaissance masters." Dachs smiled knowingly. "Do not be angry with him. The homophilia-it corrupts the mind as well as the body. He cannot help how he is."

Nikolai felt his first misgivings about Klaus. He wondered if he had promised to go with Elfi, too, and changed his mind.

"Were you cured in Sachsenhausen?" Nikolai asked softly, not knowing that the concentration camp had only just been completed.

"Yes." Dachs lied as easily as he breathed. "As I told your mother, it is a strict but effective regimen. However, you are accustomed to early hours and hard labor at Frau Klein's bakery. Sachsenhausen will not be such a hardship for you I think."

"How did you know it was the right thing to do?"

"I did not." Dachs tapped his cigarette into an ashtray. "As you said, I did not feel ill, either." He made a play to win Nikolai's sympathy. "I was afraid. But, I have never regretted my decision."

Dachs leaned over to rest his hand on Nikolai's knee.

"Nikolai, I do not expect you to believe me. I am a stranger. Ask Klaus. When you see his reaction, you will know the truth of what I am telling you. Come. I expect your mother will be anxious to take you home."

Dachs escorted Nikolai back to his mother in the reception area. Before they left, he made one more move to ensure that the Karofskys believed he was looking out for Nikolai.

"Frau Karofsky, it is important that the decision to attend Sachsenhausen be made by Nikolai of his own free will. You must not pressure him."

Nikolai gave Dachs a grateful look before following his mother outside.

* * *

"Iakov?"

"Yes, little brother?"

"Do you think I am ill? That this-these feelings I have-are not as I was meant to be?"

Iakov loved his brother. More than his parents or even Zarya, he knew how happy Nikolai was with Klaus. Late at night, alone in the shop, Nikolai often confided in Iakov, whispering secrets with a shy smile and dancing eyes.

"I do not know, Kolya. I am a tailor, not a scientist."

They worked in silence, Iakov noting Nikolai's brow creased in thought as he concentrated on his stitches.

Iakov sighed. "Kolya."

Kolya looked up from his work.

"You should know that Mother wants you to go to Sachsenhausen as a distraction for the SS officers."

"A distraction?"

"To draw their attention away from us so that we may leave when the Jews are ready."

Kolya fell silent, considering his brother's words.

"Would it work do you think? If I went to Sachsenhausen, would you, Zarya and Papa be able to leave Berlin safely?"

Iakov dropped his work and grabbed Nikolai's shoulders, giving him firm shake.

"I would never ask that of you!"

Nikolai smiled sadly, "You are not asking, Iakov. I think, perhaps, I am offering."

* * *

Nikolai was not looking forward to seeing Klaus again, but when the invitation to join him for dinner arrived, he accepted. He hesitated just outside the studio. It seemed wrong somehow to use his key this time. He knocked instead.

Klaus opened the door, surprised that Nikolai had not entered on his own, relieved that he had shown up at all. He stepped aside to let Nikolai enter. The first thing Nikolai noticed was that they were alone.

"Where are Elfi and Sofia?"

"They have made other arrangements." Klaus let his fingers slide slowly down Nikolai's arms as he took his coat. "I have been inattentive to you, Kolya."

"You asked me to leave." Nikolai reminded him firmly.

"I was wrong. I missed you. Terribly."

He cupped Nikolai's face and kissed him softly. "You have my heart, ever and always." He deepened the kiss, teasing Nikolai's tongue, weaving one hand into Nikolai's hair and wrapping the other around his waist. "I will never set you aside for Elfi."

Nikolai thought how easy it would be to lose himself in the depths of Klaus' eyes, to be so easily persuaded by their startling deep blue sincerity he would accept anything Klaus said as truth.

Klaus pulled back, realizing that Nikolai had not responded to his advances as he had hoped. He led Nikolai to the kitchen where he had taken care to prepare his favorite foods.

They made small talk as they ate, awkward and stilted.

Finally, Klaus threw his knife and fork clattering onto his plate, frustrated by the way the evening had gone so far. His plan for a romantic dinner to apologize to Kolya was definitely not succeeding.

"What is on your mind, Kolya?"

"I do not think we will be going to Moscow. You canceled your commission for a winter coat."

Klaus bit back an angry reply and simply answered Nikolai's comment with the truth.

"Iakov said you would have a more suitable wool arriving in two weeks. So, yes, Kolya, I canceled the coat. I will commission another one when the warmer fabric arrives."

"You did not go to Paris with Elfi."

"No, I did not." Klaus agreed, trying to discern a pattern to Nikolai's conversation.

"You did not go to Italy with Dachs, either."

Klaus stiffened. "Do not speak of him to me."

"Would you would react so if you did not still have strong feelings for him?"

"Nikolai! I have asked you not to speak of him. Please, respect my wishes."

They ate in silence.

"Do you still love him?"

"Love him?" Klaus paled, thoughts flashing back to that night in Eldorado when he had first met Dachs. He remembered. Every moment. From the first insistent kiss to the last painful blow from Dachs' fists that had rendered him unconscious. Only to wake with his own blood pooling beneath him. And Elfi by his side. Elfi who had been there with her cool hands and soft reassurances.

Panicking, Klaus looked for Elfi now, momentarily forgetting in his fear that she was out with Sofia. He pushed away from the table, gasping. Nikolai caught him as he stumbled to his feet, carrying him to the bed before he collapsed. He had never seen Klaus so. Shaking, hands knotted in Nikolai's shirt, clinging to him for comfort.

Nikolai settled with Klaus on the bed, rocking him, pressing fervent kisses to his cheek and temple. "Forgive me." Klaus whimpered and trembled harder. Nikolai tightened his hold. "Forgive me." Eventually, exhausted, Klaus fell asleep in Nikolai's arms. Nikolai blinked back tears as he moved Klaus from his lap and laid him onto the bed. He laid down as well, taking Klaus in his arms once again.

He listened to Klaus' breathing as he thought through what Dachs had said, what Iakov had said and his own feelings. He had hurt Klaus. Again. Maybe it was a sign that homophilia was a disease and it was becoming worse. Dachs had said it affected the mind as well as the body. Not that he trusted Dachs completely. But if there was a cure…and he could protect his family as well…

Nikolai burrowed against the warmth of Klaus' body.

"…forgive me…"

* * *

The next morning, Nikolai was awake and drinking coffee long before Klaus stirred. He waited patiently. He was content to watch Klaus sleep. To see the smile that flickered across those lips, hoping he was having pleasant dreams after the trauma of the previous evening.

Klaus woke suddenly, green eyes quickly focusing on Nikolai. He sat up slowly, noting with annoyance that he had fallen asleep in his clothes. He looked ruefully at Nikolai.

"Well, that could have gone much better."

Nikolai smiled sadly at his lover's wry understatement. "Little Gosling…"

Klaus eased out of bed and joined Nikolai in the kitchen. He hated the lost, forlorn look in Nikolai's eyes. He ran the back of his fingers along Nikolai's jaw.

"Shh…every great love is tested in time…otherwise it would not be a great love, yes?" Klaus' lips quirked, hoping to coax a smile from Nikolai as well. "It would be only a mediocre love." He tilted Nikolai's face to his. "And a mediocre love is no love at all."

"I have heard that in Sachsenhausen there is a cure for…this."

"This?" Klaus moved his thumb up to trace Kolya's lower lip, felt his mouth tremble under his caress. "This is _love_, Kolya." He nudged Kolya's knees wider apart so he could move in and press his body closer to his lover's. Kolya's hands dropped to Klaus' hips and settled there, warm and familiar. "And if you seek to cure love, you will go mad."

Nikolai took Klaus' hands in his.

"I am going to Sachsenhausen."

Klaus laughed, not believing his words. He searched Kolya's eyes, seeking an explanation and found only the cold realization that Kolya was leaving him.

"If you go, do not expect me to follow and save you from your foolishness!" Klaus snapped, irritated.

"I am going." Kolya repeated softly.

Klaus shook his head. He had promised Nikolai he would never choose Elfi over him. He had never expected to be the one set aside. And for what?

Hurt and angry, Klaus shoved Nikolai.

"Then go!"

Klaus shoved him towards the door once more before turning his back and walking away.

"Klaus?"

Nikolai watched, heartbroken, as Klaus seemed to fold in on himself, wrapping his arms tightly against his body.

"Little Gosling?"

He took a hesitant step forward, wondering if perhaps he should rethink his decision.

"Will you not even kiss me goodbye?"

"A kiss? From a _man_? Why would I give you the very thing you wish to be cured of?"

Stung, Nikolai laid his key on the table as he left. Klaus listened as his footsteps faded to nothingness.

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

I came across somewhat conflicting information regarding the doctors that were present at Sachsenhausen.

**Dr. Heinz Baumkotter** is listed as the first camp doctor for Sachsenhausen but apparently served from 1941 to 1943. If there was a doctor prior to that, I wasn't able to find the information.

**Dr. Josef Hattler** is listed as serving at Sachsenhausen in 1941. It's possible he arrived after Dr. Baumkotter.

**Dr. Werner Fischer** is listed but I did not find a date for him. Also, apparently his experiments were focused only on the Roma/Gypsy population.

**Karl Brandt** is shown as the senior medical officer for the German government. I would presume he was a doctor but didn't find confirmation of that title.

There were over 40 types of experiments performed at Sachsenhausen which included vivisection, dissection, mustard gas wounds, castration, sterilization, immersion in cold water and many others.

Several doctors and other staff of Sachsenhausen were tried for murdering Russian prisoners and sentenced to life in prison. Russia did not have a death penalty at the time of the trials.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **"Paragraph 175" is being mentioned alongside "Rewrite" and "KIMS"-how cool is that? And the number of reviews for this story have officially surpassed the reviews for my Hevans story, "From Unexpected Places"-also very cool!

**Warning: ** Implied non-consensual sex/rape-nothing graphic at all-promise!

**NOTE: REPOSTED TO CORRECT HISTORICAL ERROR-THANKS, ELLA!**

* * *

PART 11

**Berlin, Late Summer of 1936**

With each step, Nikolai felt the absence of that last kiss more keenly. Twice, he faltered, turning back to look longingly in the direction of Klaus' studio. He wondered what Klaus was doing now. Sitting alone in his empty room, absinthe in hand, probably. The thought almost had Nikolai retracing his steps back to Klaus' side.

Nikolai sighed. Finally, he was home. He set all thoughts of Klaus aside as he entered the back area of the tailor shop. Nikolai's father was at the sewing machine, too intent on his work to hear his son enter. It wasn't until Nikolai walked up, gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek that his father realized he was home. He gave Nikolai a brief, affectionate hug in return before looking at him quizzically.

"Nikolai?"

"Yes, papa?"

"Where is your coat?"

"My…coat?"

Nikolai sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands with a groan. He had left his coat with Klaus.

"I will send Zarya to fetch it."

"Will you not go yourself?"

"It would be…cruel of me to return."

"Ah, you have had a lover's quarrel." Nikolai's father smiled knowingly as he patted Nikolai's shoulder. "It will be the first of many." He chuckled softly.

"I told him I am leaving for Sachsenhausen."

"Is that so?" His father removed the dress he was working on from the sewing machine and clipped the loose threads. He shook the dress out. Satisfied with his work, he hung the dress out of the way and joined Nikolai at the cutting table.

"Why would you wish to go to such a place?"

Nikolai shrugged. "I do not want to have these feelings any more." He fidgeted with a pin cushion, taking the pins out and stabbing them back in, unhappy with his situation. "They hurt."

Zarya came downstairs then with the two youngest Karofsky children, twins, following close at her side. She carefully set a tray of food and tea between the two men. She had their mother's dark hair and finely arched eyebrows that contrasted exotically with her hazel eyes. It was the first time Nikolai had really noticed his little sister was not so little any more. Grateful for the distraction, he couldn't resist teasing her.

"Moses Puckerman was in the bakery yesterday."

"So?" Zarya busied herself with pouring the tea.

"He asked about you. Again."

"So?" Zarya snapped, but Nikolai saw her blush and a quick, pleased smile flicker across her lips.

"Zarya?" Their father looked at Zarya, eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.

Flustered, Zarya finished setting their food out and quickly took the twins back upstairs. Nikolai laughed. He glanced at his father, grinning. "I believe our little Zarya may have feelings of her own for a boy."

"Perhaps." Nikolai's father sipped his tea. "But it is you we are discussing now. For many nights, I thought on you and Klaus Hummel. I thought no, this is not the life I would choose for my son. But then Iakov would come to me. He would tell me you are happy. He would say that Klaus Hummel dotes on you." Nikolai's father paused. "And then one day, Klaus Hummel himself came to me." Nikolai looked up, surprised. He hadn't known that Klaus and his father had ever spoken. "And I knew that I could never choose better for you than this man who, I think, would love and protect you to his last breath."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"Come."

Nikolai's father walked over to a garment rack of finished orders waiting to be picked up. He selected one and deftly pulled it out. He laid the coat in Nikolai's arms. Nikolai glanced at the name on the receipt. Klaus Hummel.

"But he canceled his commission. I saw the receipt for myself."

"When he realized there was only enough fabric on the bolt for one coat, he insisted it be for you."

Nikolai's father took the coat, held it out for him and, finally, he accepted. The forest green wool was thick and soft under his fingers as Nikolai slipped the coat on. He sighed. They had ordered only a few yards of the warm wool as a sample before placing a larger order to add to their stock room.

"He canceled his coat, Kolya, not yours."

Nikolai ran his hand down the row of steel buttons, admiring their intricacy. Each one had been engraved with a sure eye and a careful hand. All of the buttons bore a classic acorn and oak leaf design except, Nikolai realized, the top button. He examined it more closely. A small goose.

"A little gosling…" Nikolai breathed, amazed at the time and skill involved to carve the image on such a small surface. He blinked back tears. Seeing Klaus and Elfi together had caused him to doubt Klaus' intentions. The meeting with Sgt. Schultz had further encouraged Nikolai's fears. But now, his fingers tracing the gosling, Nikolai realized that Klaus had labored to put his love into every detail of those buttons, knowing they would be a daily reminder to Nikolai of his devotion.

Nikolai sighed, "I told Mother I would go to Sachsenhausen."

"And I will tell her you are not going, I forbid it. Sachsenhausen will not cure what you are feeling, Kolya. So, that matter is settled. Now, let us settle matters of the heart, yes?"

"But, Papa-"

"Klaus Hummel is content to wait for his coat. I do not think he should also have to wait to hear that you love him."

Nikolai gave his father a shy smile and nodded.

* * *

Nikolai started walking back to Klaus' studio but when he was a few blocks away, he broke into a boyish grin and started running. He was anxious to see Klaus and apologize. He would agree with whatever the young German said about him. He was a fool. He was an idiot. He would be whatever name Klaus needed to call him before he would take Nikolai in his arms and forgive him. Nikolai laughed to himself. Maybe Klaus had denied him a goodbye kiss but he would definitely be seducing his lover into a "welcome back" kiss before the evening ended. His eyes lit with mischief as he considered the ways he could most thoroughly convince Klaus to accept his apology.

Nikolai entered Klaus' building. He took the stairs two steps at a time until he reached the second floor landing and froze.

Dachs.

Nikolai barely had time to comprehend what he saw-Sgt. Dachs Schultz with four SS officers-before they swarmed down the stairs and overwhelmed him.

* * *

Klaus sat in his living room, the coat Nikolai had left behind in one hand, his drink in the other. He doubted Nikolai would come back himself for the coat. He would probably send Zarya or Iakov. Klaus ran his hand over the fabric, considering.

He could take the coat to Nikolai.

It would be the decent thing to do, he tried to convince himself.

Klaus sipped his absinthe, letting his thoughts swirl in his mind as he watched the green liquid swirl in his glass. A noise in the stairwell interrupted his thoughts. He listened for a moment. Probably the sculptor who also had a studio on the third floor. He was always lugging wood up the stairs and making as much noise about it as possible.

"…klaus!…"

Klaus stiffened. He thought he had heard his name. He stayed still, unmoving, listening to hear his name again but there was only silence. He rose to hang the coat up properly when he heard a knock at the door. He hated that his first thought was that Kolya had returned. He hated even more that the thought of Kolya returning made his breath catch in his throat and his heart beat faster.

Klaus unlocked the door. Immediately, Dachs and two of the SS officers stormed in, forcing Klaus back into the apartment. Before Klaus could speak, Dachs quickly shoved him against the wall, holding him there as he took out a syringe and jabbed it into Klaus' shoulder. Klaus jerked at the sudden, unexpected pain. Dachs kept him pressed to the wall, forearm across his throat until he saw Klaus' eyes dilate as the drug took effect.

"See to the other matter." Dachs ordered the two officers. "Then guard the door when you return."

The SS officers left and Dachs locked the door behind them. He turned to watch as Klaus struggled to form words even as he backed away. Dachs laughed softly. He had toyed with this moment in his mind for so long. Initially, he had planned to take Klaus by force as he had the first time. He had loved the feel of the young artist trying to fight him off.

But then another, more appealing idea came to him. To have Klaus completely helpless, watching him with those blue eyes-or would they be green this time?-and knowing that Dachs could do anything and everything he wanted to him. And this time, Dachs thought, the one thing he very much wanted was to humiliate Klaus by bringing him to climax.

Dachs took his time undressing as he watched Klaus beginning to stumble. The drug would take care of keeping Klaus relaxed. Dachs would take care of keeping him terrified.

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Late Summer of 1936**

After the fear and confusion of arriving at Sachsenhausen and being processed three days ago, Nikolai was giving in to numb acceptance of his new reality.

He returned from a day of hard labor and fell into a bunk, exhausted. Another man soon joined him but when Nikolai saw who it was, he shoved him out. The man yelled at him, Nikolai shouted back and several of the other prisoners tried to quiet them before the Kapo-the barracks overseer-noticed the commotion. The man tried again to climb into the bunk. But Nikolai wouldn't have it. He wasn't going to spend the night fighting off the man's groping hands. Not again.

Two other prisoners approached Nikolai and he moved over as much as he could so they could join him. They weren't homophiles. But they had been outspoken in their political opposition. So they were labeled with pink triangles and sent to Sachsenhausen. In the concentration camp, Nikolai quickly learned, he was whatever an SS officer said he was. A Jew. A homophile. A Russian dog or a colored triangle.

Nikolai ran a hand over his shaved head. Finally, he laid back with an arm over his eyes, sighing. Another long, hot day in the brickworks. At least he was used to the heat from Frau Klein's bakery so he could bear it better than many here.

But the worst part, Nikolai thought to himself, the worst part was that Klaus would never know he had changed his mind. He would never know that he had Nikolai's heart for ever and always as well.

He rolled onto his side and wept.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **For everyone who was heartbroken and hating Dachs last chapter…well, you're probably going to be a little more heartbroken and hating Dachs even more this chapter. BUT, hopefully the last scene will make up for it somewhat.

Also, if anyone was wondering if Klaus and Kolya had a theme song? Why yes, yes, they do. "How Can I Not Love You?" by Joy Enriquez (several versions on youtube).

Thank you for all of the reviews and support-wow, getting close to 200!

**Warning: rape, violence, sex (consensual).**

* * *

PART 12

**Sachsenhausen, Late Summer of 1936**

The morning began as many others had in the homophile barracks of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Guards rushed in and, with a mixture of physical abuse and verbal threats, hauled the prisoners out of their bunks and herded them into the restroom to wash up and relieve themselves. Packed into a small room, dozens of men jostled each other to use the limited facilities.

Word spread quickly that six more had died during the night. Nikolai was ashamed that his first thought was to wonder who would get the two empty bunks. What had his life become that having a bed to himself was now a luxury?

That morning, Nikolai was quick enough and lucky enough to have time for a rushed breakfast-such as it was. After breakfast came the morning roll call. Nikolai helped the other "pink triangles" carry their dead to the Appelplatz to be counted as part of their unit before they could be taken to the morgue.

After they were dismissed from roll call, Nikolai and several others from his barrack were marched double time out of Sachsenhausen and taken to the Klinkerwerk brick factory. More than once, someone collapsed on the journey and never recovered. Nikolai held his own without complaint. Complaining led to harsher beatings. Or another lifeless body in the road. He followed the now familiar path down into the quarry. Twelve hours of mindless, backbreaking work lay ahead.

Twelve hours to remember a lover's promise kissed on his bare shoulder.

Twelve hours to dream of Moscow and might have beens.

* * *

**Berlin, Late Summer of 1936**

A day and a night had passed. Klaus was certain of that at least. How much more time might have passed beyond that, he couldn't say. The hours were lost to nausea and drug induced delusions.

He thought Nikolai had returned. He remembered calling his name at least twice. And he remembered the weight of another body covering his. No, not covering, pinning him down. Klaus frowned. The hands that had roamed possessively over his skin had been accompanied by Dachs whispering in his ear.

"Is this the way Kolya touches you?"

Fingers trailed a path from the back of Klaus' knees up to his thighs and then squeezed his ass.

"Or this?"

Dachs' lips nuzzled Klaus' neck. Klaus' eyes fluttered open, disoriented. He tried to move. Tried to act on his impulse to shove Dachs off of him but he felt dizzy and strangely disconnected from his own body. Dachs rolled Klaus onto his back. Klaus lay helplessly under him. He jolted when Dachs pinched one of his nipples and then brought it to his mouth, rolling his tongue across the hardened nub. Dachs glanced at Klaus' face and chuckled. Klaus felt the laughter vibrate against his chest.

"Do you like this, Klaus?"

Dachs kissed his way across Klaus' chest and was soon tonguing his other nipple. Klaus closed his eyes against the sensation. He could have endured pain if Dachs had taken that approach. But this…Klaus turned his head, biting his lip as he buried his face against the pillow, humiliated.

Dachs was breathing harder, his eyes dilated with pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat beaded on his bare torso.

"Say my name."

Klaus shook his head. Dachs grabbed Klaus' hair and jerked hard.

"Say it!"

What would Nikolai think of him if he knew?

"…kolya…"

Dachs backhanded Klaus, splitting his lip and drawing blood. Klaus spat the blood in Dachs face and laughed. Dachs drew back to hit him again then thought better of it. No, this time wasn't to be about forcing Klaus with pain. He smiled coldly. This time, Klaus would come from pleasure…and hate every minute of his body's betrayal. Dachs wiped his face on the bedding then leaned in and licked the blood from the corner of Klaus' mouth. Klaus made a noise of disgust.

Dachs kissed Klaus. His lips pressed softly against Klaus' mouth. His lips, his tongue, his hands caressed Klaus; sure, firm strokes stirring him to involuntarily respond. When Dachs finally entered him, Klaus was ready.

"…I will kill you…"

"You?" Dachs laughed. "You are nothing. And I am an SS officer!"

Klaus shook his head, blinking back tears as he felt Dachs' full length penetrate him. Dachs' fingers closed on Klaus' erection. He pulled out and pushed back in, timing his strokes with hand pumping Klaus. Against his will, Klaus' body arched to meet Dachs'.

"…no…"

Klaus shook his head again even as his hips rocked against Dachs, moaning with each stroke as Dachs rode him harder and deeper until Klaus shuddered and came. He felt Dachs tense and cry out as well before collapsing on top of him.

"So good…". Dachs murmured against Klaus' throat. He gazed at Klaus as he ran the back of his fingers along Klaus' jaw. "I think I could almost love you." Kisses followed the path of his fingers.

Klaus, eyes closed, was weeping openly now, ashamed. Even though Nikolai had left him, still, Klaus felt he had betrayed the young Russian. He would give anything to hear Nikolai call him Little Gosling again.

"...kolya…"

Dachs stiffened. And then his anger exploded. He grabbed Klaus up and slammed him against the headboard.

"Kolya?"

Dachs punched Klaus and Klaus, still drugged, couldn't react fast enough to defend himself. Dachs punched him again. Klaus cried out. Dachs shoved him out of the bed, threw him to the floor and kicked him. Then he dragged him through the apartment, stopping to punch or kick or shove him into a wall as they moved from the bedroom to the living room to the kitchen.

Finally, a knock at the door interrupted Dachs.

"What?" He yelled through the locked door.

"Sir, staff meeting is in two hours."

Dachs looked at Klaus unmoving on the kitchen floor.

"I will be out shortly."

Dachs hurriedly washed off the blood, dressed and shoved Klaus once more with his boot before leaving.

* * *

Bertram Hummel found his son unconscious on his studio floor. Shortly after he had cleaned him up, changed the sheets and settled him into bed, Elfi and Sofia returned. Bertram sent for a doctor. While the doctor examined Klaus, Elfi found two empty syringes. Klaus slept heavily for several hours then began to stir.

Soon enough over the next few days, Klaus recovered and, haltingly, told them about Dachs and his attack. And then one day when he was almost completely well, Klaus was surprised by a visit from Nikolai's father.

Cautiously, Klaus opened the door when he heard the knock. Herr Karofsky stood there, obviously worried.

"Please, my son…Nikolai…is he here?"

"Nikolai left for Sachsenhausen some time ago." Klaus frowned. "Surely he told you this."

"No." Nikolai's father shook his head. "No, no, he changed his mind. I spoke to him. I showed him the coat. He was coming back to see you."

Klaus paled. If Nikolai had come back when Dachs was there… He stepped aside and motioned for the elder Karofsky to enter and have a seat. Bertram, Elfi and Sofia looked up in surprise as the Russian tailor entered.

"This is Nikolai's father."

Immediately, Elfi went into the kitchen and put water on for tea. She came back and sat at Klaus' side.

"I do not understand. Nikolai is not here. He has not been to Frau Klein's bakery. Where is he?"

"Sachsenhausen." Klaus answered quietly.

"No." Herr Karofsky's head dropped to his hands and he wept. "No."

"Klaus…" Bertram looked at his own son, knowing what he was thinking.

A look passed between Klaus and Elfi, she knew him well enough to know his thoughts, too.

"When will you leave?"

"Dachs was right. He is an SS officer and I am nothing. I cannot go to Sachsenhausen as a civilian with no protection for myself or Kolya." Klaus squeezed Elfi's hand. "I have arrangements to make first. Major Kruger offered me the rank of Sergeant if I joined the SS to work on…a special project." Klaus had almost let Operation Bernhard slip out.

Bertram's eyes widened in shock. "You would join the SS?"

Klaus laughed uneasily, "Father, some of your closest associates are SS, yes?"

"That is business, Klaus!" Bertram looked away. "Do not do this. Please."

"I cannot leave him any more than I cannot draw another breath."

* * *

After his meeting with Major Kruger, Klaus had another visit to make. He arrived at Sgt. Dachs Schultz's office and, after being forced to wait for nearly an hour, finally Dachs' secretary escorted him in.

Dachs rose from behind his desk to greet Klaus.

"Herr Hummel-."

And stopped when he saw Klaus dressed in a dove gray SS uniform.

"Sgt. Hummel." Klaus corrected coldly, subtly emphasizing his new status as an SS officer. "First class. I outrank you."

Dachs laughed. "Barely!"

Klaus smirked. "Perhaps. Still, I do outrank you." He slammed his fist into Dachs' faced then grabbed the blonde officer up, shoved Dachs into a bookcase and punched him again.

"The first time, I was drunk."

He landed another blow. Dachs staggered, recovered and charged Klaus who easily evaded him. As he passed, Klaus landed another blow to Dachs' side.

"The second time, you drugged me."

Klaus rammed his fist into Dachs' gut.

"This time, I am neither drunk nor drugged."

He landed two more blows in quick succession.

Klaus grabbed a fistful of Dachs' hair and jerked his face up to see him. Dachs' eye was almost swollen shut. He futilely wiped at the blood running down his nose and the bleeding on his lip.

"No one pushes a Hummel."

* * *

When he arrived back at his studio, Klaus was surprised to see Nikolai's younger sister, Zarya, waiting for him.

"Zarya?"

"You are going to save Kolya?"

Klaus smiled. "I am going to try. It may be a while."

Zarya nodded. "I brought some of his things for you to take to him."

"That was very thoughtful of you."

Klaus blinked when Zarya handed over the forest green wool coat he had commissioned.

"I will leave that with Elfi until the weather turns."

"And…this." Zarya handed over a leather journal. "Please, it is very important to him. Can you get it to him, Klaus?"

Klaus flipped through the journal, immediately recognizing it as Kolya's diary. Immediately seeing entries with references to "Little Gosling".

"I will put this in Kolya's hands myself." Klaus promised, touched by the what little he had read of Kolya's words.

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Late Summer of 1936**

Arbeit Macht Frei.

Klaus Hummel passed through the main gates of Sachsenhausen and entered a world unlike any other. He followed Commander Lippert and Major Kruger into the open roll call area of the Appelplatz. The Master Printer August Petrich was next to Klaus.

Once through the gates, Klaus' eyes were drawn to the gallows set at the far end of the Appelplatz where a body swung. Klaus noted that he wasn't wearing a prisoner's uniform.

"Who was he?"

"Your predecessor."

Klaus glanced over to see if August Petrich was making a joke, but the printer's face was somber. Klaus noted the prisoner barracks on either side of the gallows. He wondered if that gruesome sight was the first thing Nikolai saw every morning and the last thing he saw every night. Klaus quickly looked away, taking in the rest of the Appelplatz.

Several prisoners in blue and white striped uniforms with pink triangles appeared to be marching quickly around a circular track. From what Klaus could see, the surface of the track was uneven and the prisoners' boots ill fitted. They stumbled often. And when they did, the guards watching over them were eager to punish. Klaus' heart quickened when he thought he saw one or two men who might be Nikolai.

Commander Lippert and Major Kruger turned left, following the edge of the Appelplatz until they reached the Infirmary Barracks and the Pathology building. Here, the commander paused briefly to identify the area for Klaus. As Commander Lippert outlined the experiments being conducted in the Infirmary and explained their benefits, Klaus nodded appropriately and kept his face carefully neutral.

They turned right, following the angled wall of the triangle shaped compound until they reached Block 19. Klaus took in the building's painted over, barred windows and barbed wire netting. This, then, was to be his workplace while at Sachsenhausen. August Petrich nodded to the two guards at the door, Herbert Marok and Heinz Weber, and introduced them to Klaus.

Once inside, Master Printer Petrich updated Major Kruger on changes that had been made since his last visit. The changes mostly concerned new equipment that had been installed and new prisoners that had been reassigned to Operation Bernhard.

Klaus listened to the conversation as much as he could but Commander Lippert drew his attention away.

"From civilian to sergeant so quickly?", Commander Lippert scoffed as he took in Klaus Hummel's new status.

Klaus lifted his chin slightly. "You have my papers, Commander Lippert. Everything is in order."

"My men will never accept you."

"They do not need to accept me, they need merely to leave me alone to do my work."

Commander Lippert's lips thinned, displeased with Klaus' attitude.

"You are very close to being insubordinate."

"My apologies, Commander." Klaus gave a self-deprecating smile. "I am an artist with, unfortunately, an artist's temperament. I mean no disrespect. I am merely anxious to devote myself to my work."

"Hmph." Commander Lippert seemed placated by Klaus' words. "Do you have _any_ experience which would serve a military installation?"

Klaus started to say he was an expert marksman but caught himself.

"I am fluent in Russian."

"Indeed?" The commander looked Klaus over more thoughtfully. "I understand there is a prisoner here you wish reassigned to Block 19."

Klaus glanced at Major Kruger and August Petrich, still deep in their own conversation. He didn't want to overstep his bounds but if the commander knew about Nikolai, then surely the major or master printer had mentioned him.

"Yes, my apprentice."

"Name?"

"Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky."

"A Russian?"

"Yes."

"Why was he imprisoned? Well?"

"He is a homophile."

Commander Lippert considered this information carefully, weighing it in his mind. A slow smile spread across his face.

"There is a special guest from St. Petersburg State University who will be arriving soon. He is a doctor of behavioral conditioning and studied under Ivan Pavlov."

"I am sorry, sir, I am not familiar with Ivan Palov."

"He conducted several interesting experiments with dogs." Commander Lippert smiled tightly. "It is of no concern. The Russian scientist would like very much to study our methods of treating homophilia. Specifically, he would like to speak with a prisoner and I am under orders to accommodate his request."

"I am certain I can convince Nikolai to cooperate with such an interview, Commander." Klaus quickly grasped the opportunity this presented.

"I would like you to be present as well."

"Of course."

"If the two of you were to impress upon our Russian guest the success of Sachsenhausen's homophile program, I would be very pleased." Commander Lippert eyed Klaus. "Do we understand one another, Sgt. Hummel?" He stressed Klaus' new rank slightly.

"I understand."

* * *

Nikolai barely noticed the guards patrolling his area any more. He lost himself in the familiar rhythm of work and no longer felt their eyes watching his every move. Until two of them came to a sudden halt in front of him. Nikolai tensed. A rifle butt slammed into his shoulder. Nikolai staggered back but didn't fall.

"You, Russian dog, what is your name?"

"Karofsky, Nikolai Petrovich, sir."

"Follow us."

Nikolai did as he was told. The guards led him out of the quarry, up to the street level and a waiting car. The driver took one look at Nikolai's appearance and spit on him. Then he yelled at the two German guards, cursing them as he gestured at Nikolai, clearly disgusted by the young Russian's dirty clothes and skin.

The driver spoke very fast. Nikolai understood enough to know he was complaining about putting a "filthy butt-fucker" in his car. After some debate, one of the soldiers found a reasonably clean tarp and laid it across the back seats of the car. Nikolai was shoved inside. One of the guards climbed in next to him, rifle pressed to Nikolai's side.

Nikolai said nothing. The feel of the cool wind on his face as they drove was worth any insults the driver and guard said of him.

"Such a pretty young boy." The driver made kissing noises.

"He rides now but soon he will be the one being ridden, yes?"

The last remark left both Germans laughing. Nikolai opened his eyes and watched the scenery pass. When he had first arrived, such vulgar comments left him shocked and blushing-much to the amusement of the other men. Nikolai had learned that outside of his own barracks, many of the kapos had favorites they kept as lovers. Often they were youths of Nikolai's age or slightly older. He wouldn't be surprised to find the practice extended to the guards and officers as well. Ironically, it seemed the only place where homophile sex wasn't tolerated was among the pink triangles.

When they arrived at Sachsenhausen, Nikolai was handed over to another pair of guards. These two were quieter, focused on their duties. They took Nikolai first to be shaved and then to the showers. To Nikolai's surprise, he was given a full bar of soap and ordered to be generous in using it. After the shower, a towel to dry off and a clean uniform. And, Nikolai sighed, the uniform fit.

Nikolai's initial misgivings began to give way to fear. No prisoner was afforded the attention and luxuries he was being given. Certainly not a prisoner who wore the offensive pink triangle. Perhaps he was being groomed to become some SS officer's plaything. If so, Nikolai considered how he should react. If he fought, he would probably be killed or at the very least, tortured. If he gave in-Nikolai hesitated to consider that option. Still, if he gave in, perhaps he would gain some leverage. Nikolai bit his lip. He refused to cry. Not before the German soldiers. His one comfort was that if he submitted, Klaus would never know his shame.

The guards hurried him away from the barracks, across the Appelplatz and to the entrance gates of Sachsenhausen. Nikolai hesitated. The guards ordered him to keep going. Nikolai wondered if he would be shot once he stepped through the gates. It was not unheard of. And even though it seemed absurd that he would be permitted a shower and new clothes only to be killed, still, Nikolai could not completely dismiss the depths of depravity the guards would explore.

Finally, the guards shoved Nikolai through, laughing at him when he froze a second time, waiting to feel the bullets cut through him. He blushed, embarrassed at his reaction. The guards walked him towards the smaller gate. Nikolai expected they would go through that gate and across the street to the green building that housed the officers' quarters. To his surprise, the guards turned, directing him towards the commander's house.

* * *

Commander Michael Lippert's pinched face and thin lips gave away nothing as he studied Nikolai. Nikolai swallowed hard. He wondered if this was the man who intended to bed him, the commander of all of Sachsenhausen, until Commander Lippert's next words stilled Nikolai's heart.

"I trust you remember Sgt. Klaus Hummel?"

Nikolai looked up in disbelief, his eyes immediately sought and-incredibly-found Klaus' eyes steadily gazing back at him. Sergeant. Klaus. Hummel. Nikolai took in Klaus' dove gray uniform. The weary yet slightly amused look on his face. It was as if Klaus couldn't quite believe he had joined the SS, either.

To Klaus' relief, Nikolai looked much better than he had dared hope. A little tired. A little thin. Definitely darkened by the late summer sun. But overall he seemed somewhat whole and healthy.

"Yes, sir." Nikolai finally found his voice and answered Commander Lippert.

"Good. The sergeant has business to discuss with you. Tomorrow, you will be reassigned to Block 19. You will answer to Major Kruger, Sgt. Hummel and Herr August Petrich as you would to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Commander Lippert nodded to Klaus. "A guard will take you to your quarters. For now, you will be temporarily assigned to the VIP guest quarters until construction is completed in the officers'area." Commander Lippert's lips twitched. "It will reinforce your status to the other officers. You do not have their rank, but they will understand that you are involved in a special project. I do not think there will much trouble for you."

Klaus inclined his head. "Thank you for your consideration, sir."

"I expect my consideration to be well and fully compensated, Sgt. Hummel. As we have discussed."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Nikolai followed the conversation with keen interested, wondering at the unexpected change in his situation. He thought he remembered Block 19 as the labor area inside the camp. He suddenly released that Klaus was standing before him expectantly. Nikolai flinched, wanting to reach up and touch Klaus' face to make sure he was really there. But he saw Klaus' slight frown and realized they both had to be very careful.

"Come." Klaus commanded firmly and Nikolai followed him.

* * *

Klaus and Nikolai followed the guard out of the commander's house, through the small gate and to the green building across the street. The officers' living quarters. They passed through the main dining area. Nikolai saw several prisoners there serving food. And several others being served up as entertainment for the raucous German officers. Nikolai swallowed hard and looked away from the prisoners that were being tormented. Situations changed quickly in Sachsenhausen. Tomorrow he could find himself in their places. He caught Klaus looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

Klaus stopped the guard to inquire about food for himself and Nikolai. The guard offered to bring a tray to the room after they were settled. Apparently Commander Lippert's favorable treatment of Klaus had registered with the guard and he was eager to make a good impression. Klaus gave the guard a satisfied nod.

They continued to the living quarters until they reached Klaus' room and the guard led them inside. Klaus' engraving tools and belongings had already been brought from the car and were waiting to be unpacked. The guard excused himself, leaving the door open. Nikolai took a step towards Klaus but Klaus shook his head. The guard returned shortly with a tray of bread, cheese, meats, pickles and butter.

"That will be all." Klaus said dismissively. He had started to add "thank you" but stopped himself, realizing that as an SS officer, he shouldn't be thanking the guard for performing a duty that was expected of him.

Once the guard left, Klaus closed the door and locked it. He sighed with relief at finally being able to take his hat off and loosen his collar. And, finally, to be alone with Nikolai. Klaus smiled softly.

"Are you hungry, Kolya?"

Nikolai grabbed Klaus and kissed him, hands moving along his jaw, fingers caressing his cheeks, tongue seeking his as if Nikolai could never taste Klaus deeply enough. Nikolai whimpered as he pressed his body against Klaus', forcing them both against the wall.

Klaus' fingers fumbled with the buttons on Nikolai's shirt. He couldn't seem to unfasten them quickly enough. Couldn't get his hands under the fabric and slide his palms possessively over Nikolai's bared chest soon enough.

Nikolai lifted Klaus. Klaus locked his thighs around Nikolai's waist, feeling the Russian's sturdy hands gripping his ass to support him. Feeling Nikolai's hips rocking against his.

"…clothes…off…"

"…yes…"

Nikolai set Klaus down but they couldn't seem to stop kissing and touching long enough to undress. Finally, growling with frustration, Nikolai shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it aside and started in on Klaus' uniform. Unfortunately, without much success. Giggling, Klaus stepped out of Nikolai's hands long enough to remove his uniform and carefully set it aside so it wouldn't wrinkle. Then he attacked Nikolai's pants, yanking them off and setting them aside as well leaving them both naked.

Nikolai cupped the back of Klaus' neck and pulled him in for another kiss. Klaus squirmed, pressing every inch of his body against Nikolai's with a contented whimper. They fumbled their way to the bed. On the way, Nikolai grabbed the butter from the food tray. Klaus eyed him with a raised eyebrow.

"You have plans for that?"

Nikolai grinned mischievously. "Definitely."

He playfully tackled Klaus onto the bed, pinning him there with his body. He held Klaus' wrists above his head and stole another kiss.

"…yes…"

Klaus breathed against Nikolai's skin, loving the feel of Nikolai's body so completely covering his. He lifted up to lick Nikolai's nipple. Then laughed when Nikolai groaned against his mouth.

Nikolai scooped some of the butter onto his fingers and began working it into Klaus, stretching him as he slipped his fingers in and out, making sure he was slick and ready. Meanwhile, Klaus grabbed his own handful of butter and began stroking Nikolai as well.

After several moments, when Nikolai felt Klaus relaxed and ready, he eased himself in. He held himself still for a moment, feeling Klaus warm and tight against him. Then he started moving, slowly pushing in and out.

They fell into a familiar rhythm, Nikolai alternating deep strokes with shallow ones. Klaus trembled. Nikolai _knew_ him. Knew what a caress of fingers here, a brush of lips there or a firm, wet tongue against that sensitive skin would do. Klaus cried out against the pillows as Nikolai started deepening each stroke until Klaus held all of him inside. Klaus' hands on Nikolai's shoulders stilled as he paused, eyes closed, overcome with emotion.

Nikolai leaned in to place gentle kisses on Klaus' eyelids. Then his temple. And finally trailing back down to fiercely claim Klaus' mouth again. Klaus was making small, desperate noises as his hips arched to meet Nikolai's.

"…kolya…please…"

Klaus opened his eyes and Nikolai saw that his blue eyes were shading to green as they always did when he felt something strongly.

"…fuck me harder…"

He wanted this new memory of Nikolai to erase everything of that night with Dachs. Nikolai's lips. Nikolai's hands. Nikolai pumping into him, sliding across that sweet spot; a pleasure that bordered on torment with every delicious thrust.

Nikolai grabbed more of the butter and rubbed it along Klaus' erection. Klaus jerked, raising off the bed with a gasp. Nikolai chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his throat as he rimmed his thumb around and over Klaus' head.

"You like that, yes?"

Klaus, past the point of being able to form words, fell back on the bed and nodded. He moaned, wriggling to thrust into Nikolai's hand. Nikolai almost climaxed himself. Watching Klaus move under him, his eyes fluttering close, those whimpering, pleading noises…he knew they were both getting close.

Klaus wrapped his legs around Nikolai's, thighs tightening against his waist. His hands gripped Nikolai's ass.

Nikolai watched the flush of color spread across Klaus' cheeks and shoulders. Heard his breath hitch. Quiet, frantic gasps. Klaus' fingers bit into Nikolai's skin.

"...come for me…"

Klaus stiffened and cried out and Nikolai was there, covering Klaus' mouth with his own, feeling the young German's body buck once more against his before surrendering with a shudder. Klaus thrust against Nikolai's hand as he released. Nikolai came, too, one hand still gripping Klaus through his orgasm even as he climaxed and felt a warm rush leave his own body.

He eased out and collapsed into Klaus' embrace, content to lie where he was, head on Klaus' chest, catching his breath. Klaus sighed, fingers tracing lazy circles on Nikolai's shoulders. Nikolai snuggled against Klaus.

"I love you." He raised up enough to kiss Klaus lightly. "In this moment and in every moment after."

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

**Chapter 11 correction: **Initially, I wrote the last chapter with Nikolai being tattooed at Sachsenhausen. However, **Ella Greggs** (awesome writer-go read her fics!) kindly pointed out that prisoners were only tattooed in Auschwitz.

Klinkerwerk Brick Factory was established in 1938.

A civilian who was a master craftsman and had skills the German army needed could start immediately as a non-commissioned officer at the rank of Staff Sergeant. After a year as a Staff Sergeant, a soldier could move up to the position of Sergeant First Class.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: "Nobody Does It Like Me" **from the musical "Seesaw". (Several versions on youtube).

* * *

PART 13

"Wear a nice suit?"

Kurt fumed as he selected another outfit from his closet and strode over to lay it on the bed with his other choices. He stopped to address Mercedes directly.

"He actually had the nerve to text me and tell me to wear a nice suit!"

Mercedes giggled.

"The day I need fashion advice from Dave Karofsky is the day I go to McDonald's for a fine dining experience."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Boy, you are not that clueless."

Kurt paused, hand on hip. "What do you mean?"

"Hello? He's taking you to meet his _family_? " Kurt's eyes widened. "It never occurred to you that Teddy Bearofsky might be a little nervous?"

"That's ridiculous." He tugged on a shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. "It's just part of our history assignment."

"Mm-hmm. And how many weeks have you and Karofsky been working together?"

Kurt hmphed dismissively. "It's a time consuming project. That's all. Besides, Karofsky isn't gay."

"Keep telling yourself that, Bay-Bay." Mercedes pulled one of Kurt's outfits off the bed, held the hanger up and frowned. "No. Just…NO."

"It would serve him right if I did wear it."

Mercedes gave him a look as she took the offending clothing back to the closet. "You are not wearing this get up!"

Kurt crossed his arms, defensive. "That 'get up' won me the role of kicker for the football team."

"Whatever." Mercedes rummaged through the closet herself. "Oh, Kurt!" She squealed when she pulled the classically tailored, forest green vest out. Kurt walked over and ran his fingers lovingly down the collar.

"After my grandfather passed away, I found this beautiful wool coat stored in his attic. Unfortunately, the moths found it before me." Kurt smiled, the memory bittersweet. "But I was able to rescue enough fabric to sew this vest. And the buttons are pristine. Almost as if they've never been worn."

"Are these-steel?"

"Mm-hmm. Hand carved steel buttons. Aren't they gorgeous?"

"They…don't match."

Kurt giggled. "I know. I think I love them even more because of that whimsical touch." He reached over and traced the figure of a little gosling on the top button.

"You have to wear this."

Kurt pursed his lips, his underlying annoyance resurfacing. "Dave Karofsky doesn't deserve to see how fabulous I look in this."

"-owned by my sister."

"Yeah, that sounds like something Kurt could get into."

When Kurt and Mercedes finally came downstairs, they were surprised to find that Karofsky had already arrived and was deep in conversation with Burt Hummel.

"You get that tire taken care of?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got a spare?"

"Spare's in the trunk. With the emergency kit. And I have my AAA card if we break down."

Kurt and Mercedes lingered near the stairs. Kurt was amused at his dad giving Karofsky the third degree. Mercedes kept sneaking peeks at Karofsky. Kurt couldn't blame her. Karofsky wore a tone on tone subtle olive green suit that looked custom made. The olive and gold tie was definitely silk. Both colors emphasized the green in Karofsky's eyes.

"Mm, mm, mm. Karofsky's got it goin' on, Kurt. If you don't go with him, I will."

"Step off, bitch." Kurt lifted his chin, smug. "The boy came for me."

Mercedes giggled, wondering if her bff had any idea how possessive he sounded. Kurt sauntered into the living room. Karofsky, busy going over something with Burt Hummel, barely acknowledged him.

"Hey." Karofsky nodded at Kurt as he handed a sheet over to Burt. "Here are the phone numbers." He flipped the sheet over. "And this is the route we're taking."

Burt nodded, his impression of Karofsky significantly improved by the care the teen had obviously taken in planning this trip.

Once Karofsky settled things with Burt, he turned and gave Kurt his full attention. Kurt felt his cheeks warm as Karofsky's eyes took him in from head to toe. He was glad now that he had listened to Mercedes and worn the vest. He'd added a mandarin collared, long sleeved russet shirt. Russet and dark green pinstriped pants completed his outfit. The only accessory he'd added was the hat he worn to Mercede's church. The colors were a bit dark together for Kurt's tastes, but he wanted to show off the engraved buttons and they gleamed against the fabric background.

Karofsky's eyes found their way back up to Kurt's and he managed a shy smile.

"You look great."

It wasn't what Karofsky said but the appreciative look in his eyes that sparked Kurt's pride. Karofsky looked wonderful, too, and Kurt decided it was only fair to return the compliment.

"Thank you. You look very handsome. The suit-Armani?"

"Karofsky."

"Excuse me?"

"I made it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sure you did."

Karofsky's jaw tightened a bit at Kurt's implication that he was a liar. Mercedes interrupted before the tension between the two escalated. She gave Kurt a hug. Then turned to Karofsky.

"You take care of my boy, Karofsky, or Mr. H. won't be the only one you have to worry about."

"Got it."

Mercedes wave d goodbye to Burt as she left.

"So…" Karofsky exhaled nervously as he faced Kurt and Burt. "It's about three hours to Cleveland. An hour to visit with Nana Zarya. An hour or two to eat. Another three hours to get back."

Burt looked at Kurt for a long moment. He knew the history he had with Karofsky. And even though things seemed to have changed, still…

"You call me."

"Dad-" Kurt looked embarrassed.

"He'll call you." Karofsky interrupted. "I'll see to it."

Burt Hummel was beginning to like Karofsky.

* * *

Kurt had been giving Karofsky sidelong glances every since they'd left Lima. This time, Karofsky caught him at it.

"What?"

"Did you really make your suit?"

Karofsky sighed, not wanting to go into details about this particular secret.

"Yeah, I really did."

Kurt pursed his lips, considering whether or not Karofsky was telling the truth.

"Prove it."

"Kinda busy right now, Hummel. You know, that whole driving on the highway and not getting us killed thing?"

"Say something fashion related."

Karofsky huffed. "Fine, Berninas are evil."

"What's a Bernina?"

"High end Swiss sewing machine. Caught my finger in the speedy little fucker twice."

Kurt winced sympathetically. "Say something else."

"I'm pretty sure in some countries sewing a French seam is a torture method."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You know what a French seam is?"

"I should, I sewed enough of them for my sister's wedding."

"You know what a French seam is and you know how to sew one?" Kurt gave Karofsky a playful nudge. "I can't imagine why some lucky fella hasn't snatched you up already."

Karofsky tensed. "Because chubby guys who sweat too much don't get 'snatched up' like they're the catch of the day."

Karofsky fidgeted with a band on his left wrist, drawing Kurt's attention to it for the first time. It was similar to the ones he had seen for cancer support, muscular dystrophy and other awareness issues. Usually they were imprinted with a ribbon and an encouraging message. "Courage". "Believe". "Be Strong." Kurt read "S.S.A.A." on Karofsky's blue wristband.

"I'll apologize for what I said when you apologize for what you did."

Karofsky blushed. "I'm working on it."

"I'm. Sorry." Kurt said sarcastically. "There. See how little effort that took? I didn't even break a sweat…but you might."

"It's a stupid song, okay?" Karofsky tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. "It's just-it's not ready yet."

Kurt's interest was piqued. "A song?"

"Yeah." Karofsky answered absently, concentrating on the traffic and changing lanes to let an ambulance pass.

"Sing it for me." Kurt commanded.

Karofsky knew that tone. One glance confirmed his fear. Kurt had full bitch face on and wouldn't let up until he had gotten what he wanted.

"Fine!" Karofsky pulled out his phone and tossed it over to Kurt. "Play the one marked 'apology'". Kurt did and music filled the car. Kurt turned slightly towards Karofsky, waiting expectantly. Karofsky took a breath and sang.

_If there's a wrong way to do it_

_A right way to screw it up_

_Nobody does it like me_

Kurt cried out, delighted, as soon as he recognized the song. He clasped his hands together, eyes sparkling. Karofsky, encouraged, relaxed and had fun with the rest of the song.

_I've got a big loud mouth_

_I'm always talking much to free_

_If you go for tact and manners_

_Better stay away from me_

Karofsky winked playfully at Kurt.

_If there's a wrong way to keep it cool_

_A right way to be a fool_

_Nobody does it like me_

_Nobody does it_

_No, nobody does it_

_Nobody does it like me_

Kurt handed Karofsky's phone back and he pocketed it. For a moment, neither teen spoke. Then, Kurt cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I said you were chubby and sweat too much."

Karofsky's face softened. "Thanks."

* * *

"Red one!"

Karofsky gleefully punched Kurt in the arm as he passed a red Volkswagen Beetle.

"You hit me!" Kurt sputtered, stunned.

Karofsky shrugged. "Red Beetle."

"You. Hit. Me." Kurt repeated more slowly.

Karofsky glanced over, puzzled. "Dude, why are you freaking out? Oh-blue one!"

When Karofsky pulled back to lightly punch Kurt's shoulder again, Kurt yelled.

"DON'T HIT ME!"

Karofsky was shocked to see Kurt cringing against the door, eyes wide and fearful, face pale. All of the progress they had made shattered in that moment. Karofsky could see that in Kurt's eyes, they were back where they had started.

Dave Karofsky, bully.

Kurt Hummel, victim.

"…let me out…"

"Calm down."

"…let me out…!"

"Okay, okay. There's a rest stop the next mile. Just hold on, okay?"

Kurt wasn't listening to Karofsky. Some part of him knew he was overreacting. The other part of him was panicking. His hands went to the strap of his seatbelt and slid down to unfasten the buckle.

"Fuck, Hummel!"

Karofsky checked if he was clear then quickly steered into the emergency lane and slowed down. They rolled to a stop just as Kurt's seatbelt snapped free and he scrambled out of the car. Karofsky watched as Kurt ran up the grassy slope set between the highway and the overpass. He sighed. Kurt was probably going to call his dad. Sure enough, he could see the young diva pulling out his phone.

Karofsky idly watched the cars passing by. He had been so happy to finally have a weekend free to see his grandmother again. If this trip was canceled, it might be a few months before he could get back to Cleveland. He checked on Kurt. He was still on the phone, hand on hip, glancing Karofsky's way then turning away from him.

Karofsky leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. Fuck. Fuck him for screwing things up with Kurt. Again. Over a stupid road trip game. Some time later, he heard Kurt get in, close the door and lock it. Karofsky opened his eyes. Kurt settled the seatbelt across his torso and secured it.

"Want me to take you home?"

Kurt punched Karofsky in the shoulder. "Black one." Karofsky sat staring at Kurt, dumbfounded. "What? Mercedes said that's how this-Beetle game-is played."

"Sure you're okay?"

Kurt offered Karofsky a shaky smile…and punched him two more times. "Red and yellow." His smile grew more confident. "In case you didn't notice, I'm winning."

Karofsky grinned. "I'm letting you win."

"Are not."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Am too."

Both teens started laughing.

"So-we're good?"

"We're good. I-just had a moment of panic. Let's go see your grandmother."

* * *

"Name?"

"Karofsky, David Paulovitch."

"And you're here visiting-?"

"Karofsky, Zarya Petrovna."

"If you'll sign in and have a seat, I'll let her know she has visitors."

Kurt followed Karofsky into the waiting area.

"Your middle name is Paulovitch?"

"Yours is Elizabeth."

"Point made."

Karofsky started reading a Russian magazine. Kurt used the time to take in their surroundings. He was surprised to find that Zarya Karofsky wasn't in a nursing home but a retirement community. The waiting room had a free standing waterfall surrounded by plants and small trees. The color scheme was subdued but light, cheerful without being overly so. Within moments, Karofsky and Kurt were taken to Zarya Karofsky's suite.

* * *

"Mishka!"

"Nana!"

Karofsky's face lit up when he walked in and saw Zarya beaming at him. She held her hands out. Karofsky squeezed them gently then leaned in to kiss first one cheek and then the other.

Karofsky stepped aside to introduce Kurt.

"And this is-"

"Kurt Hummel." Zarya finished for him, smiling warmly at Kurt.

"You're Zarya?" Kurt sounded pleasantly surprised.

Karofsky looked between the two of them. "You know each other?"

"She came to my grandfather's funeral."

Kurt, taking Zarya's hands in his, stepped back a moment to give her an appraising look. Her hair, upswept in a neat chignon, was completely silver now but her hazel eyes still sparkled under perfectly arched eyebrows. And her lips still held that hint of amusement as if she knew a secret she would never tell.

Zarya wore a beautiful aubergine silk blouse with several strands of Chanel pearls and a long skirt. A touch of lipstick. Classic red nail polish. Subtle but memorable perfume. Kurt sighed. She was exactly as he had remembered her at the funeral if a little older. Zarya Petrovna Karofsky was Kurt's idealized grand dame.

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "As beautiful as I remembered."

Zarya pinched Kurt's cheek and, to Karofsky's surprise, he let her.

"Wait-hold on-what?" Karofsky looked incredulously at his grandmother. "Our family's hated the Hummels for as long as I can remember."

Zarya raised a graceful eyebrow at her grandson. Kurt was impressed. For a woman her age, she still pulled off the HBIC with expert skill.

"And yet here you are, David…with a Hummel."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling at Zarya's subtle change from Mishka to David. Apparently it wasn't lost on Karofsky, either, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable being in the same room with his grandmother. Zarya settled back in her chair. She patted the loveseat next to her and Kurt settled in near her side.

"It is a woman's prerogative to change her mind." She said, effectively dismissing Karofsky's comment.

She turned to Kurt and gasped softly when she saw his vest. Zarya reached for one of the buttons then paused, looking for Kurt's approval. He nodded, leaning over so she could more easily reach them.

"They were my grandfather's."

"Not exactly." Zarya ran the top button lovingly between her thumb and forefinger. "I did not think I would ever see these again." Zarya's expression took on a far away look. "Your grandfather made them for my brother, Nikolai."

"They were on a coat-"

Zarya nodded. "Yes." She added absently. "They had made plans to go to Moscow." Zarya caught herself, looking guiltily at Kurt. "Forgive the ramblings of an old woman."

Kurt squeezed her hand, understanding her embarrassment. "It's okay, I know." He glanced at Karofsky. "We both know."

"At the funeral, your father did not seem to understand."

Kurt sighed. "My dad thinks Kolya was a Jewish girl."

Sadness darkened Zarya's eyes. "I see."

"But he does know that Kolya was the love of Klaus' life."

Zarya smiled. "You have the Hummel eyes. So like Kolya's Little Gosling."

Karofsky's mouth dropped. "Kolya's little gosling?"

"Yes, his nickname for Klaus Hummel."

Karofsky dropped heavily into the loveseat next to Kurt, mouth still gaping as realization sank in. "Gosling?" A slow smile spread across his face. "Gosling." And then he laughed. Kurt looked at him quizzically and he laughed again. Karofsky sat back and started laughing so hard he was gasping for air and wiping tears from his eyes.

Concerned, Zarya offered him a cup of tea. Finally, Karofsky was able to bring himself under control. He grinned boyishly at Kurt as he explained. "Gosling isn't a typical Russian pet name. So, when I saw it in the journal, I translated it literally. I couldn't figure out why Nikolai kept talking about a baby goose so I skipped over those entries."

Kurt felt his heart tighten emotion. "So Nikolai did write about Klaus."

Zarya giggled. "All the time!"

Karofsky caught Kurt's eyes. Nodding, Kurt brought out Nikolai's journal and passed it over to Karofsky. Zarya let out a soft "oh" as she recognized the worn book.

"Take it away."

Karofsky spoke to his grandmother in Russian. She answered. Kurt couldn't follow what they were saying but he thought he heard Karofsky say "Sachsenhausen" as if he were asking a question about the concentration camp.

Karofsky handed the journal back to Kurt. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Karofsky, what's going on?"

"Not now, Kurt."

Zarya had turned away but Kurt could hear her softly crying. He put Nikolai's journal back into his messenger bag, nodded once to Karofsky and went back to the waiting room.

Twenty minutes later, Karofsky joined Kurt. Karofsky looked shaken. Kurt was surprised to see his eyes were red rimmed, as if he had been crying. He didn't say a word, just looked at Kurt then jerked his head towards the door. Kurt grabbed his bag and followed. They strode across the parking lot in silence. Kurt waited until they were in the car then repeated his question."

"What's going on?"

"Nana said that the journal was a reminder that she survived Sachsenhausen and Nikolai didn't."

"Zarya was at Sachsenhausen, too?" Karofsky looked out the window and Kurt realized he was crying. "You didn't know?" Kurt asked quietly. Karofsky shook his head. Kurt reached over, took Karofsky's hand in both of his and held it.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you SO much for the reviews and tumblr posts! They really encouraged me when I was working through this part. Sorry for the delay. Work became very busy suddenly. Also, this chapter went off in an unexpected direction and I've been wrestling with it. **

**Mishka is Russian for "teddy bear" or "cute bear".**

**Denis Simachev is a real designer but is used here fictitiously. **

**S.S.A.A. is my own idea and is not meant to represent any real program which may exist.**

* * *

PART 14

Karofsky absently stroked his thumb over Kurt's fingers, tracing little circles as he continued to stare out the car window, lost in thought. It bothered him to see his grandmother brought to tears over things that had happened so long ago. He turned to look at Kurt. It bothered Karofsky to think that, years from now, Kurt could still be affected by the stupid shit he did while they were in high school.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt's mouth parted slightly, surprised at Karofsky's sudden apology. A flicker of hope stirred. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"The slushies. The locker shoves. All of it."

"And the kiss?" Kurt asked quietly.

Karofsky hesitated. He couldn't tell Kurt the truth, how he really felt about that kiss.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

Kurt seemed satisfied with that answer. He tightened his fingers in Karofsky's for a moment before releasing them. Kurt dug into his messenger back and brought out Nikolai's journal. Tentatively, he held it out to Karofsky.

"Would you like to try again?"

Karofsky took the journal, flipped to a page near the beginning and read out loud, first in Russian for himself so he could hear the original and then translating for Kurt.

"True, I am not the tailor my father is but even my talent is sufficient to transform a stormy eyed gosling from peasant to prince." Karofsky paused. "If only he would also accept my guidance on his shoes."

"It does not say that." Kurt objected, arms crossed loosely against his chest.

"Yeah, it does." Karofsky confirmed, eyes sparkling with amusement.

He flipped to another entry.

"Such authority! Such surety of self in one not much older than I! I loved my Little Gosling from that first moment in Frau Klein's bakery and I have loved him in every moment since."

Karofsky chuckled.

Kurt was annoyed by his reaction. "I think it's incredibly romantic."

"I think you need to hear the rest of it."

Kurt's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Go on."

Karofsky picked up where he had left off. "-and I have loved him in every moment since. Except, perhaps, the night he convinced me to try absinthe. I do not think I held much love for my Gosling then. And I am certain my stomach did not hold much of anything."

Karofsky snickered as Kurt grabbed the journal back and slid it into his bag. Kurt bit back a smile, glad to see Karofsky in a better mood, even it was at his expense. Karofsky patted the dashboard.

"C'mon, Gruff, let's get outta here."

"Gruff?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "You named your car Gruff?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Think about it."

Kurt watched the streets pass as he thought out loud. "It's a GTO. The nickname for a GTO is a Goat." Karofsky nodded. A thought came to Kurt and he gave Karofsky a look. "The Three Billy Goats Gruff. You named your car after a fairy tale?"

Karofsky grinned. "My niece named it and it just kinda stuck."

"It suits you." Kurt couldn't help adding.

Karofsky glanced over. "The car or the name?"

"Both."

* * *

Karofsky pulled into a strip mall and parked in front of a restaurant named Zakuski. Kurt grimaced at the somewhat plain, uninviting exterior.

"This is where you're taking me to eat?"

"It's my sister's restaurant." Karofsky got out of the car. "Come on."

Kurt scoffed. "I think not."

"Whatever, dude." Karofsky replied nonchalantly as he opened the door and walked in, leaving Kurt and his divaness out in the cold . After a moment, Karofsky poked his head out of the door, grinning. "So, you gonna steal Gruff or you wanna come in and have your first taste of caviar?"

"Caviar?" Kurt mentally chided himself for sounding so breathlessly excited. And, no, he certainly had not licked his lips at the thought of finally sampling the elusive object of his culinary desires. "I've had caviar before." He adopted a slightly bored tone.

Karofsky smirked. "Is that right?"

"Still…" Kurt pulled his coat closer as he walked toward the door. "…I suppose I could eat a bite or two."

When they entered the small foyer, Karofsky pulled Kurt aside.

"This is a Russian restaurant. Just follow me. You'll be fine."

Kurt looked offended. "You're giving me tips on etiquette?"

"Kurt, please."

Something in Karofsky's quiet request curbed Kurt's acerbic commentary. Besides, he was curious to see what a Russian restaurant looked like. And the promise of caviar was certainly enough incentive for Kurt to be on his best behavior. Whatever the Russian standard of best behavior might be.

The walls and counter surrounding the cash register were filled with matryoshkas, the colorful little Russian nesting dolls. Zhostovo trays lined the walls of the dining room. The black platters, painted with pink, red and green florals, were colorful accents against the cheerful yellow walls. White tablecloths covered black lacquered tables. In spite of himself, Kurt couldn't help smiling.

"Mishka!"

A squealing young girl ran headlong towards Karofsky. Growling playfully, he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up, tossed her and caught her before gently setting her back down. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

He spoke to her in Russian. She shook her head. He spoke again. She shook her head but Kurt could tell she was giggling. Karofsky said something to her a third time. She started giggling harder. Finally, Karofsky picked her up again and put her over his shoulder. She squeaked in protest.

"Hey!"

Kurt's eyes widened as a tall, burly man approached and intercepted Karofsky.

"That's no way to treat a young lady."

Smirking, Karofsky set the little girl down again. "Is that right?"

The man took of his jacket and draped it over a chair. "You want to settle this like a man?"

Karofsky started to take off his jacket but Kurt grabbed his arm. Karofsky shrugged him off.

"Hummel, unclench before you hurt yourself."

Karofsky removed his jacket and handed it to Kurt. Kurt braced himself for the first punch to be thrown. Instead, Karofsky and the man sat down, one elbow each on the table and locked hands. Arm wrestling. Kurt blinked. And they were grinning at each other. The little girl plopped down at the end of the table.

"You want your Mishka to win, Tanya?"

The little girl shook her head and pointed to the other man. "Win, Daddy, win!"

Karofsky growled at her again. The little girl shrieked and ran to hide behind her dad. She peeked out, though, to smile at Karofsky.

"Ready, set-"

"-go!" Karofsky interrupted.

Kurt watched the two men struggle for dominance. Barbaric. Uncivilized. Although, he noted with a touch of smugness that Karofsky held his own quite nicely. When he started to win, the little girl-Tanya-ran around to grab Karofsky's arm and tug on it, trying to help her dad win.

"Oh, stop it!" Karofsky's sister, Dina Nadeev, walked up and smacked Karofsky and the other man on the back of their heads. She sounded off in Russian. Kurt didn't understand what was said, but from the sheepish look on the men's faces, it appeared to be a reprimand. After she left, they started laughing. Karofsky and the man put their jackets back on, then he pulled Karofsky into a bear hug.

"See how your sister is?"

"Dude, your wife is your problem." Grinning, Karofsky turned to Kurt. "Kurt, this is my brother-in-law, Toma Nadeev." He used the American introduction so Kurt would be clear on his first name. Toma took Kurt's hand in a firm grip and shook it then gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. Karofsky nodded towards Dina who was checking on customers.

"My sister, Dina."

"And this-" Karofsky drew Tanya to his side. "-is my niece, Tanya Nadeev."

"You named your uncle's car?"

Tanya nodded eagerly. "Grrrrrrruuuuuffff!"

She grabbed Kurt's hand and tugged him towards a table. Karofsky shrugged apologetically.

"It's kind of rude if we don't eat with the family."

Kurt nodded and let Tanya pull him along. The table they stopped at was lively with animated conversation. Toma took a seat and Tanya climbed into his lap. Karofsky introduced Kurt to the other people at the table, mostly cousins and friends of the family. Kurt was pleasantly surprised to learn that many of them were tailors and seamstresses. Two were even fashion designers.

And they were all discussing the Fall 2012 menswear line by a Russian designer named Denis Simachev.

"Denis Simachev?" Kurt inquired, trying not to sound too eager at the prospect of a new fashion discovery. His innocent question set off another round of rapid fire debate in Russian and English as a few people passed their phones over to Kurt to show him examples of Simachev's work. Laughing, he glanced at the images long enough to get the website. Then he took out his phone and quickly bookmarked the site.

"Oh, my…"

Kurt's voice trailed off as he scrolled through the colorful, offbeat suits and graphic t-shirts. Karofsky let him have a few moments. He had been nervous about bringing Kurt to Zakuski but now, seeing how much Kurt was obviously enjoying himself, he couldn't help but be pleased at his idea to come here. And when Kurt turned to him, eyes shining with delight over Denis Simachev's latest collection, Karofsky offered a shy smile in return.

"Ready?"

"Yes!"

Kurt followed Karofsky into the adjoining banquet room where two large tables were set with an array of colorful dishes. Kurt paused at the table on the right. It was set for a Russian tea service. A gleaming silver samovar sat on its own smaller table next to the main table.

"What are these?"

Kurt picked up a podstakannik, admiring the etched tea glass and the delicate intricacy of its silver filigreed holder.

"Podstakannik. Russian tea glasses and holders."

"They're lovely."

Karofsky smiled and led Kurt over to the other table. "We can have tea later. Start here, with the zakuski." He gave Kurt a sidelong glance. "So, you ever try caviar for real or was that bullshit?"

"Of course I have! Once." Kurt fidgeted under Karofsky's direct gaze. "I ordered it online but it tasted-off-salty."

Karofsky nodded. "If it was salty, it wasn't processed right. Lemme guess. You used a metal spoon?"

Kurt looked offended. "It was sterling silver."

"Doesn't matter. You never let metal touch caviar. It kills the taste." Karofsky lifted a spoon from the caviar for Kurt to see. "Mother of pearl. You can also use bone." Karofsky leaned over and whispered. "Or hell, just use plastic, it'll work."

Kurt chuckled at the thought of using a plastic spoon with caviar. Karofsky pointed to one of the caviars.

"Sevruga Classic Gray."

Kurt followed Karofsky's example and spooned a small amount of the pearly, gray eggs onto a slice of buttered black bread.

"Osetra Golden Imperial."

Kurt was surprised at the yellow color of the caviar. Karofsky nudged him.

"Best shit in the world. Go on. Try some."

Encouraged, Kurt added the unusually colored eggs to his second slice of black bread. He scanned the table, frowning.

"Why the face? You haven't even tried the food yet."

"I thought caviar was supposed to be served with chopped eggs and onions."

"Only if the caviar's crap."

"Oh." Kurt blushed slightly, embarrassed at his error.

Karofsky guided Kurt around the zakuska table, explaining the flavors of various dishes. Kurt soon realized that pickled, vinegary food was quite popular along with fish and open faced sandwiches.

"Oh, here, you'll like this." Karofsky's eyes twinkled as he added a serving to Kurt's plate. "Eggplant caviar."

Kurt rolled his eyes but accept Karofsky's offering without complaint.

Back at their table, Kurt listened as Karofsky explained the difference in flavors between the two caviars they had selected. Finally, Kurt took his first bite. Karofsky watched Kurt's face light up as he savored the caviar. He moaned softly in appreciation of the delicate, crisp flavor on his palate. Kurt took another bite. Some of the caviar spilled onto his chin.

"Hey, don't waste it!"

Laughing, Karofsky scooped it up with his thumb. Kurt, not thinking, drew Karofsky's thumb into his mouth, catching the eggs with his tongue. He licked the last of the caviar off as Karofsky pulled out. They looked at each other a moment longer than they should have, both realizing that something had sparked between them.

"…goluboi…" Someone at the table said under his breath.

A hurt, surprised look crossed Karofsky's face as he denied the accusation.

"Ya ne goluboi."

Kurt pulled out his phone and, holding it out of sight under the table, quickly Googled the unfamiliar Russian word. Goluboi. Gay.

"Pidar gnoinyj!" This said more loudly from the other side. Several women at the table gasped and started making shushing noises. Karofsky threw his napkin down, an angry flush coloring his cheeks.

"Ya ne pidar gnoinyj!"

From Karofsky's reaction, Kurt had a good idea what that phrase meant. Still, he quickly Googled it, too, and was unsurprised at the result. Dirty fag.

"David." Dina's voice cut through the heated conversation. Karofsky left the table to talk to his sister.

Kurt pocketed his phone. He took a moment to look directly at each person seated at their table. Faces that had been open and welcoming had become closed and distant. The lively conversations about fashion that Kurt had been enjoying fell silent.

He looked over at Dina who stood with arms crossed, expression stern. Toma carried little Tanya out of the room, not even giving her a chance to say goodbye to Karofsky. Kurt picked up his second piece of caviar slathered black bread and ate it slowly, letting the flavors meld in his mouth.

When Karofsky came back to the table, he didn't meet Kurt's questioning gaze.

"Dina said we should leave. The weather's turning bad."

"That isn't what she said at all."

"Since when do you speak Russian?"

"Unfortunately, prejudice translates easily in any language."

To Kurt, these people were strangers. He might be frustrated with their ignorance, but he wouldn't be leaving with the hurt he saw reflected in Karofsky's eyes. The shame of being someone his family found unacceptable. He dabbed his napkin to his lips and stood.

"I believe I'll try the tea now."

Head held high, shoulders squared, Kurt walked into the banquet room and waited expectantly by the samovar. He stood there, one hand on his hip, surveying the dining room as if deciding who should have the privilege of preparing his tea. Karofsky felt a surge of admiration for the young diva. Whispers began among the customers. Still, Kurt waited.

Finally, Dina approached Karofsky and smacked him sharply on the shoulder. He stood. They began arguing. Dina grabbed Karofsky's wrist, pointing first to the blue S.S.A.A. band and then gesturing angrily at Kurt. All while speaking non-stop in Russian. Karofsky jerked his hand free.

"I am trying!"

Kurt watched the exchange, wondering what connection Dina was making between Karofsky's wristband and himself. Karofsky was being pushed from complacent to pissed. Kurt knew the exact moment when his temper finally snapped.

"Is that right?"

Karofsky stormed into the banquet room, snatched a shot glass from the zakuska table, filled it with vodka and drank it. Dina, following on his heels, grabbed the glass from him and slammed it down. Karofsky circled the table. Dina moved to intercept him. Karofsky faked right, then darted left, successfully grabbing another shot glass and sloppily filling it with vodka before Dina grabbed his arm. He easily overpowered her and gulped down the second glass.

Just as Kurt was wondering if he should do something, Dina pulled back and slapped Karofsky as hard as she could. Karofsky looked like a puppy that had just been kicked to the curb. His shoulders sagged, defeated.

Dina sighed, exasperated. "Just leave!"

Karofsky caught Kurt's eye then looked back at Dina and shook his head.

"Fine, then I'll call the police!"

Dina left and Kurt had no doubt she was calling the police for help. Karofsky joined Kurt by the samovar.

"Karofsky?"

Karofsky picked up one of the podstakannik-a Russian tea glass-and handed it to Kurt. He lifted the teapot from the top of the samovar. Karofsky covered Kurt's hands with one of his, steadying the glass as he poured. He set the teapot back.

"The tea is brewed on top, extra strong."

They could hear sirens in the distance. Karofsky guided Kurt's hands to bring the tea glass under the spigot set in the lower section of the samovar. He opened the spigot and filled the rest of Kurt's glass with hot water.

"You use the hot water on the bottom to dilute it."

The sirens were getting closer. Karofsky and Kurt turned to the tea table. There was the expected honey and sugar but to Kurt's surprise, Karofsky reached for what appeared to be a dish of fruit.

"Cherry varenya. It's a cherry syrup used to sweeten the tea." He managed a slight smile. "My favorite."

"Alright." Kurt held his tea out and let Karofsky add a generous spoonful of the cherry varenya. He blew on the tea to cool it, then sipped. "Oh. My. God. That's wonderful!"

Karofsky looked over Kurt's shoulder towards the front door.

"Drink up, the cops are here."

They walked to the front of the restaurant where Dina and Toma were talking to two police officers.

"She slapped him." Kurt spoke up immediately. "That's assault."

"She's allowed to use reasonable force to protect her property. You want them to leave?"

"Yes." Dina hesitated. "After they pay for their meals."

Karofsky's jaw tightened. He had spent last summer painting his sister's restaurant and helping her decorate. He had paid for half of her liquor license. She never asked him to pay when he ate at Zakuski. They considered it a trade. Wordlessly, he brought his wallet out, opened it and pulled out his Visa card.

"Cash only."

Kurt's eyes flicked to the sign at the cash register. The one listing the credit cards the restaurant accepted. Bitch, Kurt thought to himself as he watched Dina prolong her brother's embarrassment. Two could play that game.

He wandered back into the banquet room unnoticed. Now that the noise had settled, the other diners were eager to resume their conversations. Kurt strolled over to the zakuska table. Using a metal teaspoon, he scooped up liquid from the pickled something or other that Karofsky had said had a strong vinegar and salt flavor and stirred it into the caviar. Kurt wiped the spoon off, replaced it on the table and joined Karofsky just as Dina finished counting out the money he had handed her.

* * *

After the police escorted them outside, they had to run through a thunderstorm to reach the car. They scrambled inside, soaked. Kurt took off his hat, shook the raindrops from his hair and carefully set it on the back seat.

"Well, that was lovely, I always wanted to be called 'fag' in another language."

"I didn't think-"

"No, Karofsky, you didn't think! I want to go home. Now."

As they drove through town, Karofsky realized it had been raining for a while and their situation was worse than Kurt realized. He had already detoured twice because he knew those roads would be flooded. Now they were stopped because power lines had fallen across another street. He glanced over at Kurt who looked pale, hands gripping his seatbelt tightly as he watched sparks of electricity dance across the road from the fallen line. Karofsky made a decision he knew Kurt would hate. He threw Gruff in reverse, turned around and headed for a hotel.

Moments later, Karofsky pulled into a hotel parking lot and cut the engine. Kurt looked at him in disbelief.

"You brought me to a hotel?"

"Kurt, the weather's really-"

"A hotel, Karofsky?"

"Just listen-"

"I want to go home!"

"We're at a hotel." Karofsky grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat. "Deal with it."

Karofsky ran through the rain to the hotel entrance. When he looked back, Kurt was still in the passenger seat, arms crossed, watching him with an icy expression. Karofsky went inside. After he got the room, he would come back and convince Kurt to come inside.

As it turned out, Karofsky didn't have to convince Kurt. Just after the clerk processed his information, Kurt came in and handed Karofsky his cell phone.

"Dad would like to have a few words with you."

Karofsky took the phone while Kurt looked on smugly.

"This is Dave. Yes, sir. No, sir. I understand." He paused, looking at Kurt. "He's not gonna like that." Karofsky handed the phone back to Kurt. "He has a few words for you, too."

Kurt walked away to continue his conversation wit h Burt. Karofsky already knew what the outcome would be. Still, he couldn't help being satisfied when Kurt came back with a subdued expression on his face.

"You might have mentioned Ohio is under a tornado watch."

"You might have shut up long enough to let me."

Kurt glared. "Dad wants us to stay here until the weather clears."

"What a great idea. Wish I'd thought of it." Karofsky smirked. "Oh, wait, I did!" He took the plastic card key from the clerk. "Come on, we've got a room." He picked up his duffel bag and Kurt followed him to the elevator.

The room was better than Kurt had expected. There were two full size beds, a microwave, stocked mini fridge and, to his intense relief, even a blow dryer.

Karofsky set his duffel bag on the floor, opened it and pulled out his spare set of sweats. He tossed them on one of the beds. "You can change into those. They're too big for you but at least they're clean and dry. I'm gonna go get some stuff. It shouldn't take long."

"Are you going to get condoms?" Kurt couldn't help blurting out his concern.

"What?"

"I think you heard me."

Kurt stood on the far side of the room, arms wrapped tight about his waist, eyeing Karofsky nervously.

"Why, want me to get extra ribbed for your pleasure?" Karofsky answered sarcastically. "Hell, maybe I'll even spend a little extra and pick up some lube, too."

Kurt's eyes widened as he gasped and took another step back. Karofsky sighed. He hated the look on Kurt's face. The uncertainty. Did Kurt really think he would try to have sex with him? He only needed a second glance at Kurt's face for him to realize that yes, that was exactly what Kurt thought.

"Would you feel better if I slept somewhere else?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Karofsky slid the card key back into his pocket. Kurt's eyes followed the key. "I'll give it to you when I come back."

Kurt nodded.

* * *

When Karofsky returned, he knocked first. Kurt quickly came to the door and opened it.

Karofsky swallowed hard. Kurt looked so damn cute with his sexy, tousled hair and wearing his oversized sweats . Maybe he was right to be worried about Karofsky sleeping in the same room with him. He set two large shopping bags in front of Kurt.

"Thought you might need some stuff."

Karofsky's eyes flicked to the two full sized beds in the room. Warm, dry beds with fluffy looking pillows. He mentally figured out how much money he had left. He quickly realized he couldn't afford a second room and still have enough to buy Kurt breakfast tomorrow and have gas money to get them home. He would have to sleep in his car tonight.

"Was there something else?" Kurt stood at the door, hand on hip, blocking Karofsky from entering.

"No, I'm good."

Kurt held out his hand. "The key?"

Another time, Karofsky might have argued but the way this day had gone, he didn't feel like fighting any more. He handed the card key over and let Kurt have the room to himself.

After Karofsky left, Kurt's curiosity got the better of him. He carried the shopping bags inside and immediately started going through the things Karofsky had purchased for him.

There were two pairs of sweatpants and shirts, underwear, socks, shoes, toiletries. There were even two garment bags for their suits. Kurt's bad mood improved. At least he would have clean, dry clothes that fit to sleep in tonight. And, from the looks of it, fresh clothes to change into in the morning. He even laughed when he emptied the smaller bag out onto the dresser. Dozens of sample packets of high end facial products fell out. Karofsky must have hit every cosmetic counter he could find. As it turned out, a few were products Kurt actually used.

Kurt went to close the curtains when he saw Karofsky making a mad dash across the parking lot to his car. He watched for a moment, thinking that when Karofsky came back in, Kurt would call his room and thank him. But Karofsky didn't come back in. Instead, he pulled a blanket and pillow from the trunk and climbed into the back seat. Kurt watched for a moment longer, puzzled. And then the realization hit him. Karofsky planned on sleeping in his car.

Kurt looked around at the room and at Karofsky's purchases. He grabbed one of the bags and found a receipt shoved into the bottom of it. Another bag, another receipt. Then he flipped through the hotel brochures until he found one with the room rates. Kurt remembered that Karofsky had paid for both of their meals, too.

He sank into a chair, stunned when he realized how much Karofsky had spent. Not only had Kurt not offered to share any of the expenses, he had been bitchy enough to kick Karofsky out of the room he had paid for. Because of his own insecurities. Kurt grabbed his phone and angrily dialed Karofsky's number. Karofsky barely got a mumbled "hello" out before Kurt ordered him back to the room.

Karofsky showed up at the room in a heartbeat. He was soaked through, panting and looked worriedly at Kurt when he opened the door.

"What's wrong? You okay? Is there a problem with the room?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Get in here."

Karofsky hesitated. "You sure?"

"Idiot!" Kurt hissed then grabbed Karofsky by the shirt and physically pulled him across the threshold.

* * *

A rumble of thunder woke Karofsky a couple of hours later. He glanced at his watch. Just past midnight. He checked on Kurt. He had kicked the covers off and was now curled in a tight ball on his side, shivering. Karofsky got up. He grabbed the covers from the floor, pulled them back up over Kurt and tucked them in. Kurt sighed happily and snuggled into their warmth.

Karofsky sat back on his bed and watched Kurt as he slept. He really wanted to get under the covers with Kurt. He flopped back onto his mattress. He closed his eyes but all he could see were Kurt's lips warm and wet around his thumb. And that thought was only a step away from imagining those lips warm and wet around…other things. Karofsky bit back a groan. He was hard. Again.

He lay there for several minutes, fidgeting with his wristband, trying to clear his head. Finally, he grabbed his phone and went into the bathroom. He sat on the floor, back against the tub and punched in his sponsor's number. No answer. He waited, then tried again. Nothing.

Sighing, Karofsky left the bathroom. He glanced over at Kurt who still appeared to be fast asleep. He rummaged through his duffel bag, found his list of sponsor phone numbers and went back into the bathroom, trying to be quiet. He tried another number. Busy. Dialed a third. Out of service. Karofsky's hands tightened on the phone. It was taking a lot of willpower not to smash the damn thing against the wall.

Karofsky took a deep, shaky breath and released it slowly. He called his sponsor. He nearly cheered when he heard the call going through. To voicemail. Karofsky listened in disbelief to the message that his sponsor would be out of town until Wednesday. He ran a finger under the S.S.A.A. wristband, not finding any comfort in it.

"…fuck my life…"

Karofsky drew his knees up, laid his head down and cried.

* * *

Kurt woke up to muffled crying coming from the bathroom. It was heartbreaking. It took a moment for him to remember where he was and to realize it was Karofsky making those noises. Kurt walked into the bathroom. Karofsky had his head on his knees; his shoulders trembling. Kurt laid a hand on Karofsky's head. He looked up and Kurt glimpsed the pain in those hazel eyes before Karofsky turned his head to wipe his nose with the hem of his t-shirt.

Kurt took a seat on the floor across from him.

"What's going on, David?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." Kurt squeezed his arm. "Please."

"I translated a journal entry I didn't tell you about."

"What did it say?"

Karofsky took a shuddering breath, before saying quickly, "Nikolai's mother convinced him that going to Sachsenhausen would cure him of being gay."

Kurt bit his lip. He couldn't imagine how disappointed Karofsky had been to read that.

"Just because Nikolai's mom reacted that way, doesn't mean your parents will when you tell them."

"I already told them. Six months ago."

Kurt quickly counted back six months.

"After you kissed me." Karofsky nodded. "What happened?"

Karofsky's shoulders slumped and he picked at his fingernail. "In my duffel bag."

Puzzled, Kurt left the bathroom and found Karofsky's duffel bag on the floor. He picked it up and dumped the contents onto the bed. Pamphlets, a couple of pill bottles and two books fell out among other things. Kurt picked up one of the pamphlets.

Same Sex Addicts Anonymous.

A 12 Step Program For Curing Homosexuality.

Kurt read the pamphlet cover three times, disbelief giving way to shock and shock finally giving way to fury. He looked over the rest of Karofsky's stuff. One of the bottles was a prescription for lithium. It didn't look like much had been used. The other was a bottle something called "Libidno". Kurt read the label. A sex drive suppressant. He rolled his eyes. Were these S.S.A.A. people serious?

Next, Kurt picked a six month attendance book. He flipped through it. Every meeting was checked. Kurt felt tears stinging his eyes. Six months of fucking gold stars. Six months of Karofsky being told he was flawed. He needed to be cured. That everything he felt was wrong, unnatural, against the will of God.

A sin.

One of the books was a study guide. Kurt set it aside. The other one, a workbook, he picked up. Even without opening it, he could see it had gotten a lot of use. That fueled Kurt's anger as he realized the effort Karofsky had obviously put into this program. He had tried so hard to shut himself down so he could conform to what other people expected him to be.

"…kurt…?"

Karofsky came out of the bathroom hesitantly. Kurt threw the book, striking Karofsky hard in his chest.

"This is disgusting!"

"Don't throw shit at me!"

"Really, Karofsky? You're gonna pray away the gay?" Kurt threw the attendance booklet in Karofsky's face. "Well, how's _that_ working out for you?"

"Don't fucking throw shit, Hummel!"

Kurt grabbed up the pill bottles and started to throw them as well but Karofsky rushed him and pinned Kurt's arms to the wall.

"I'm sitting in a goddamn hotel room with a razor cutting the fucking shit out of my skin. How do you think it's working?"

That stopped Kurt cold. Karofsky had been cutting himself? He scanned Karofsky's body and finally noticed the dried blood on his shirt just under his armpit.

"You said you were proud of me."

Kurt's head snapped up to face Karofsky. He jerked free and held one finger up in warning.

"Don't. Even. Don't you even dare to suggest that I condoned this! You know very well I thought you were in a support group for anger management." Kurt searched Karofsky's eyes, trying to understand what had driven the football jock to take such extreme measures. Clearly the S.S.A.A. program was hurting him. And yet, he kept going back.

"Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I thought it would make you happy."

Kurt shoved Karofsky. "Happy? This is the antithesis of everything I believe in! What in your Neanderthal mind would ever lead you to believe that I would be happy to see you do this?"

"I thought you would be happy I wasn't in love with you any more!"

In love. Kurt's mind didn't quite know how to process those two words. Especially when they came from Karofsky.

"You think you're in love with me?"

"I know I am." Karofsky said quietly.

"What makes you say that?"

"…the kiss…"

Ever since that moment, there had been one question on Kurt's lips, a question he could never quite bring himself to ask but now, in this moment, it suddenly seemed very important that he hear the answer.

"How did it feel when you kissed me?"

Karofsky avoided Kurt's eyes. He picked up the book and pamphlet Kurt had thrown and tossed them towards his duffel bag. Stalling, he got a Mountain Dew from the fridge. But Kurt was still there, still watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Finally, Karofsky sat down on the couch and Kurt took a seat at the other end.

"Last year, at the state semi-finals, our hockey team was tied with a couple minutes remaining. I had the puck. These two bruisers kept trying to check me. Time's running out. And then I see it. An opening." A smile flickered across Karofsky's lips. "One in a million shot-and I totally nailed it!"

Kurt couldn't help feeling a little disappointed at the comparison. Still, Karofsky was a jock. What had he expected? To hear that the kiss was like fireworks on the 4th of July or some other trite romantic cliché?

"And that wasn't even the best part."

Karofsky continued, oblivious to Kurt's subdued expression. In contrast, Karofsky's face was animated, eyes glowing with excitement, grinning boyishly.

"After I made the goal, the whole arena got dead quiet. You could hear the puck sliding to a stop inside the net. "

Karofsky gestured with his hands.

"And then the place just exploded! Everyone jumped to their feet, clapping, whistling. So, freaking insane, man!" Karofsky paused. "And then they started yelling my name. Ka-rof-sky! Ka-rof-sky!"

Kurt saw the look of wonder in Karofsky's eyes, as if he still couldn't quite accept that moment of praise and adoration.

"It was awesome…like the kiss." Karofsky blushed, embarrassed. He knew how Kurt had reacted in the locker room. He knew that, quite obviously, Kurt did not think being kissed by Karofsky was "awesome".

Kurt gasped softly as Karofsky's words sank in. He felt a rush of warmth for Karofsky who didn't seem to realize the significance of what he had said.

"Kissing me was like receiving a standing ovation?"

"Yeah."

Screw fireworks. Kurt would take this compliment any day. He braced his hands on Karofsky's knees, leaned over and kissed him.

Karofsky blinked in surprise. "What was that?"

Kurt smiled softly. "Consider it an encore."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I have the most amazing reviewers-seriously! I'm really glad that you liked the last chapter so much. :)**

**Chapter 16 is going to be a rough one for Nikolai and Klaus. So, I decided to write one more chapter for Kurt and Karofsky to have a little fun before going back to the heavier stuff.**

"**Only The Good Die Young" **by Billy Joel. (Lyrics intentionally out of order).

**Warning: Sex.**

* * *

PART 15

Kurt Hummel had kissed him. Willingly. Leaned right over and…and, Karofsky just realized, Kurt's hands were still warm on his knees. He sipped his Dew then set it aside and nervously took Kurt's hands in his, wondering if he would pull away. He didn't. Instead, Kurt laced his fingers through Karofsky's. They both knew their relationship had crossed over into a new area. They just needed to figure out what, exactly, that new area was.

"Do you think about stuff? About guys? About…about doing stuff…with guys?"

Kurt's cheeks were burning. He unwound his fingers from Karofsky's and scooted back a little. The look on Karofsky's face was genuine curiosity. Kurt could tell he didn't mean any harm. Karofsky was just looking for answers. The same answers Kurt wanted for himself.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable having this discussion with you."

Karofsky frowned. "If not me, then who? Finn? Mercedes? Your dad?"

Kurt laughed, embarrassed. "Oh, God, my dad gave me gay sex pamphlets to read!"

"Hope they're better than the no gay sex pamphlets I got." Karofsky's lips quirked in a sad smile. "Aren't you lonely, Kurt?"

Kurt closed his eyes as an unexpected tear slid down his cheek. And then another. So many people in his life loved him, supported him and wanted him to be happy. But they didn't want to know this side of him. They didn't want to know…details. Didn't want him to ask uncomfortable, embarrassing questions.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." Karofsky's thumb stroked Kurt's cheek, wiping the tears away. "What do _you_ want?"

Kurt opened his eyes and saw an understanding in Karofsky's patient gaze that he had never felt with any one else. The unspoken acceptance that they were both gay. That there were things they both wanted to say and do that their families would never understand.

Kurt swallowed hard and forced himself to say it. "…orgasm…"

"You've never…?"

"Not me." Kurt blew out a shaky breath. "Another boy." Kurt leaned back against the arm of the couch and laid his arm over his eyes, not daring to look at Karofsky as he blurted out the rest. "I want to know how it feels…to make someone else…to bring someone else…if I could…"

"You wanna know how it feels to jerk a guy off?" Karofsky asked, surprised.

Kurt's eyes snapped open and he fixed Karofsky with an icy glare. "You don't have to be crude about it!"

Karofsky puzzled through Kurt's admission. Was he supposed to offer himself up? Or was that wishful thinking on his part? Kurt hadn't specifically said he wanted to jerk Karofsky off. Karofsky blew out a slow breath and gave the best show of support he could think of.

"It'll happen for you, Kurt."

"When?" Kurt couldn't keep the frustration from his voice.

Karofsky reached over and squeezed Kurt's knee in a gesture of comfort.

"It'll happen when it happens."

* * *

They turned off the lights and went to bed. They lay in darkness for only a few moments when Kurt heard a groan from Karofsky's bed.

"What?"

"Stupid song just popped in my head."

"Which one?"

"Go to sleep."

Kurt closed his eyes again until he heard Karofsky saying "…fuck…" under his breath.

"Karofsky, which song?"

Karofsky was facing away from Kurt with the covers bunched up over his head. Kurt had to strain to be able to hear him softly sing one line.

"Sooner or later it comes down to fate, I might as well be the one."

Kurt giggled. Of all the things to sing after the talk they had just had. He fell silent, considering their situation. He was ready. The thought surprised Kurt and he lay in bed for several long moments turning it over in his mind, testing the truth of it. Truthfully, he wasn't ready for everything, not yet, but he was definitely ready to experiment with some things. If Karofsky was willing to cooperate. Kurt shivered, a little thrill of anticipation sparking through him.

He was ready to have sex.

Kurt decided the best way to approach Karofsky would be indirectly. To be playful and have some fun in coaxing Karofsky along. He snapped the lamp on, scrambled over and snatched the covers off Karofsky's bed.

"Hey!" Karofsky rolled over and futilely grabbed for the bedspread.

Laughing, Kurt followed up on what Karofsky had started with another line from the Billy Joel song.

"The stained glass curtain you're hiding behind never lets in the sun."

Growling, Karofsky sprang out of bed, scooped Kurt up and carefully tossed him back onto his own bed. Karofsky jumped on the bed and started tickling Kurt.

"Mighta heard that I run with a dangerous crowd. We ain't too pretty, we ain't too proud."

Squealing, Kurt scrambled backwards away from Karofsky. And fell off the bed, thudding to the floor on his butt. Karofsky leaned over the edge, grinning.

"Might be laughin' a bit too loud, aw, but that never hurt no one."

Kurt scrabbled back onto the bed and crawled over to Karofsky, forcing him to back up against the headboard. Karofsky watched, still catching his breath, as Kurt straddled him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Karofsky's hands to caress his hips. Kurt leaned in, singing softer and more slowly as he got closer.

"They say there's a heaven for those who wait. Some say it's better but I say it ain't."

Karofsky gazed into Kurt's eyes, lost in a sea of blue. He cupped the back of Kurt's neck, still amazed when he didn't pull away.

"I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints." Karofsky sang slowly, gazing into Kurt's face, finally willing to give himself over and surrender to his attraction for the young diva.

Kurt bent down, their lips barely a breath apart now. "The sinners are much more fun."

Karofsky tightened his grip, pulling Kurt in for a kiss. Kurt's lips parted willingly, eagerly. Karofsky groaned, jolted by the sensation of their tongues touching for the first time. His fingers clenched against Kurt's skin. Fuck. The way Kurt was kissing him. Lips and tongue moved down to mark his throat, his shoulder, worked their way back up to the soft spot just below Karofsky's ear.

Kurt slid his hand down and found Karofsky was hard. He whispered in his ear.

"…don't make me wait…"

Kurt pulled back and sat on Karofsky's waist, lips flushed, eyes bright with anticipation, breath coming in quick, excited gasps. Karofsky stroked the back of his fingers along Kurt's cheek. He searched Kurt's eyes for any sign of hesitation…and found none.

"There's lube in one of the shopping bags."

"Lube?"

"Yeah." Karofsky blushed. "You kinda pissed me off with what you said earlier. So I got some just…well, just to be a dick about it."

"Uhm…what's it for?"

"You get off don't you?"

"I masturbate, yes."

"You don't use lube?"

Kurt reddened, embarrassed, as he shook his head.

"Seriously? Dude…ouch."

"I didn't know I was supposed to…use…anything." Kurt said snippishly. "It's not like I had anyone to ask."

Karofsky turned Kurt's face to his. "You do now. Right?"

Kurt smiled. "I suppose I do."

"So…we'll figure this shit out together."

Relieved, Kurt nodded. He fished a tube of lube out of the shopping bag and climbed back onto the bed. He looked at Karofsky expectantly.

"Now what?"

"Fuck if I know." Karofsky chuckled. "You're right-handed? Let's try this."

Karofsky shifted, making room for Kurt to climb over him and settle in on his left. They lay down side by side. Kurt experimented with where to put his hand. In this position, he should be able to get a good grip on Karofsky.

Kurt flipped the cap on the lube open and squeezed. A blob of lube splooshed onto Karofsky's tee. He yelped as he jumped out of bed, quickly stripped the shirt off and, disgusted, threw it haphazardly towards his duffel bag. When he turned back, Kurt's eyes were fixated in him. Karofsky blushed under his scrutiny.

_I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much. _

Embarrassed, Karofsky hurriedly grabbed another undershirt from one of the shopping bags and covered himself. He looked over at Kurt, surprised to see he was frowning.

"Are you cold?"

"Naw, I'm good."

"Then why did you do that?"

"You were staring."

"You're the first boy I'm going to see naked. I think a little staring is to be expected, David."

"Oh." Karofsky fidgeted with the hem of his tee. "I thought maybe it was…something else." He crossed his arms self-consciously over his stomach and half-turned from Kurt. "The chub factor."

Kurt left the bed. He walked around until he was facing Karofsky.

"David Paulovich Karofsky."

Kurt drew Karofsky's hands away from his stomach. He slid his hand under Karofsky's shirt and let his palm trail down Karofsky's abdomen, following the line of golden brown hair that disappeared into his sweatpants.

"Letting me catch a glimpse of this and then covering it all up?" Kurt smiled coyly as he wriggled his other hand under Karofsky's shirt. "You're being a tease."

Kurt lifted the shirt just enough to bare Karofsky's belly. Then kissed it. Kurt inched the shirt up, kissing along the column of curls that continued up into Karofsky's chest. When Kurt had Karofsky's shirt hiked up to his underarms, he stopped, holding Karofsky's gaze until, finally, Karofsky nodded and shrugged out of the shirt.

"…mmm…"

Kurt murmured happily as he ran his hands across Karofsky's chest. He tugged on Karofsky's wrists, leading him back to bed. Reassured and pleased by Kurt's attention, Karofsky returned to the bed. He pulled the pillows behind him and then leaned back. Kurt settled in at his side.

"Ready?"

Karofsky bit back a laugh. "I passed 'ready' a long time ago."

* * *

Karofsky threw an arm over his eyes, biting his lip in frustration. He was so close. But there was still a part of him that was resisting. Still a part, deep down, that knew he didn't deserve this from Kurt.

"Maybe you should stop."

"Why?"

"Just…it's late."

"If I'm doing it wrong-"

"You're not-fuck-you're not doing it 'wrong', Kurt." Karofsky sighed. "It's me. I got all this stupid shit in my head and I can't relax." Kurt's face fell and Karofsky felt a wave of guilt. He squeezed Kurt to him. "You're good. Really." He kissed Kurt's temple.

Kurt couldn't help being disappointed. Karofsky seemed to like what he had been doing. He thought he might have even been close to climaxing. Karofsky started to soften in Kurt's hand. Kurt sighed.

"I was really hoping you'd come for me."

Karofsky's penis twitched. Kurt's eyebrow shot up. That was…interesting. Kurt considered the situation for a moment, thinking it through. Karofsky had been through six months of behavioral conditioning telling him that what he wanted was wrong. Maybe he just needed some encouragement. Some reassurance that this was okay.

"You feel really good." Kurt felt Karofsky getting hard again. "This-" He stroked slowly along Karofsky's shaft, "-feels really good." A moan escaped Karofsky's lips. Kurt tried to think of other things to say. Unfortunately, all the things that came to mind sounded like they belonged in a cheap porn film.

"I want you."

Karofsky laughed, dropping his arm from his eyes and looking at Kurt in disbelief.

"Dude…are you…trying to talk dirty?"

Karofsky started laughing again. Kurt scooted over so he could rest his head against Karofsky's shoulder. Let him laugh. Kurt suspected he was onto something here and he wasn't ready to give up.

"You wanna fuck me, David?"

Karofsky choked, his laughter cut off not only by Kurt's words but by the way his hand had tightened on his shaft.

"You wanna see me come?"

Karofsky bit back a long, low moan.

"C'mon, babe." Kurt whispered breathlessly. "Let go for me."

"…god…" Karofsky bucked into Kurt's hand. He reached down and laid his hand over Kurt's, stilling him. "…more lube…" Kurt squirted more of the gel in his hand. Karofsky guided his hand back in place. "…do it…more like this…and you can…circle…under the head…"

Kurt let his fingers be guided then took his own initiatives, exploring different ways of positioning his hand and fingers. Judging from the noises Karofsky was making, he didn't seem to mind. Kurt wrapped his fingers around Karofsky and then used his thumb to rub just under the ridge of his head. Karofsky murmured encouragingly, his head rocking back into the pillows.

Karofsky fisted one hand in Kurt's hair, the other clenched the headboard, his grip shaking it as he pumped into Kurt's strokes, desperately seeking release.

"…fuck…oh, god…ngh…fuck…"

Kurt felt a surge of pride. He was doing this. He was making Karofsky feel this. Kurt giggled, thrilled with his growing confidence. Watching Karofsky's face, seeing his body pinken with the flush of desire, hearing his pleas trail off into moans…Kurt had never felt sexier in his life.

"…kurt!…"

Karofsky stiffened, crying out as an orgasm arced through his body. Something warm and wet shot through Kurt's fingers. At that moment, he didn't care. He was too fascinated by the expressions flickering across Karofsky's face as he gave a final shudder and collapsed, panting, on the bed. He released the headboard, letting that hand fall to his chest. The other hand dropped from Kurt's hair and flopped onto his shoulder.

Kurt eased out from under Karofsky's arm. Karofsky watched through half-lidded eyes as he went into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth and towel. Karofsky could have cleaned himself off. But when Kurt sat down and began working the sudsy washcloth over his chest and abdomen, Karofsky closed his eyes and enjoyed Kurt's hands caressing his body.

As Kurt toweled him off, Karofsky lifted his face to meet his eyes.

"Your turn?"

"Oh. Okay." Kurt said, flustered by sudden nervousness at the thought of himself reacting the way Karofsky just had. Kurt set the towel and washcloth aside. Karofsky moved over and Kurt settled in again.

Kurt lay on the bed, arms straight to his sides, eyes closed. "I'm ready."

Karofsky managed not to laugh at how stiff and uncomfortable Kurt looked. As if sex was something to be endured not participated in.

"Dude, you are so _not_ ready."

Kurt's eyes snapped open and he raised up on his elbows. "Oh, now _you're_ the expert on gay sex?"

Karofsky smiled lazily, still enjoying the afterglow of Kurt masturbating him.

"You know what the problem is?"

"I'm sure you're eager to tell me."

"You need to be comfortable with your junk. What's it called?"

"I'm supposed to name it?"

"Why not? You named your car. Pretty sure your junk's gonna do more for you than Baby."

Kurt crossed his arms and asked petulantly, "And what's yours called-Little Fury?"

"Zamboner, actually."

"Zambo-" Kurt couldn't even finish without rolling onto his side, laughing. "After the ice rink machine?" He doubled over, laughing again.

Karofsky rested his palms on Kurt's shoulders and used his thumbs to start kneading his knotted muscles. After a few moments, he felt Kurt relaxing. Eventually, Kurt's eyes started fluttering shut. He felt warm and relaxed. Teddy Bearofsky. Kurt smiled, remembering Mercedes' new nickname for Karofsky. Karofsky's hands moved to his hips. His breath caught waiting for the next move. But Karofsky skimmed over Kurt's hips and butt and starting rubbing circles along his outer thigh.

Karofsky was very…thorough…Kurt decided. And good. The football jock kneaded his way down Kurt's calves. When he reached Kurt's feet, Kurt rolled onto his back, watching him. He really didn't see why his feet needed massaging but once Karofsky's thumbs were pressing into the arch of his sole, Kurt wasn't about to tell him to stop.

Kurt's hands fisted in the sheets. He was making noises he didn't know he was capable of. He felt a familiar tightening low in his body. Kurt shook his head, confused. Karofsky's hands were still on his feet, his thumbs still stroking across the inner arches. Karofsky changed the pressure, pressing his thumbs in slightly. Kurt cried out as he jolted upwards.

"…what are you…how are you…oh, my god…!"

Kurt flopped back on the bed, whimpering.

"…please…"

Karofsky continued to massage Kurt's legs, loosening his muscles as he worked his way up. He reached the waistband of Kurt's sweats and untied them. Karofsky slid his thumbs under the elastic.

"Lift your hips."

Kurt hesitated only a fraction of a second before raising up and letting Karofsky slide the sweats down to his knees. He looked into Karofsky's hazel green eyes, wondering what his reaction would be. Karofsky glanced at Kurt's penis and let his gaze slowly wander up Kurt's body until he met the questioning look in his sapphire blues eyes.

"…so fucking beautiful…"

Kurt's eyes widened as Karofsky went down on him…and then he was beyond caring. All that mattered was thrusting into the warm, wet tightness surrounding him. He heard Karofsky gag and felt his mouth pull away. But just as Kurt started to ask if he was okay, Karofsky was back, working his mouth in ways that Kurt hadn't even imagined were possible.

Kurt bit the back of his hand to keep from screaming. His other hand gripped Karofsky's hair.

"…da…vid…"

Kurt cried out, trying to warn Karofsky that he was going to come so he could pull off. Instead, Karofsky's mouth tightened . Kurt's hips rocked up. He felt Karofsky's muscles already working, swallowing around him.

"…fuck!…"

Kurt mindlessly thrust into Karofsky. So close. Kurt stiffened, then arched off the bed as he came. He fell back onto the pillows, arms flopping loosely over his head. Karofsky continued to tongue Kurt clean then pulled his sweatpants back up and retied them. He crawled back up to Kurt's side and pulled Kurt into his arms. Kurt snuggled against his chest.

"You okay?"

"…mm…wonderful…"

Karofsky hugged him.

"Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"I just wanna say, if you ever feel like you need to, you know…"

"Talk?" Kurt supplied softly.

"…jerk someone off, I am totally there for you, dude." Karofsky's hazel eyes sparkled mischievously. "100%. Day or night. As many times as it takes." Kurt felt Karofsky's chest against his back, rumbling with laughter.

Kurt pulled his pillow out from behind his head and swatted Karofsky, which only made the football jock laugh harder. Kurt struck another blow. Karofsky fell out of the bed. Karofsky retreated to his own bed. Kurt threw the pillow after him. Karofsky turned the lamp off, grabbed his covers from the floor and went to bed.

"Karofsky?"

"Yeah?"

"Give me my pillow back."

"Hummel?"

"Yes?"

"Come and get it."

Karofsky felt the bed dip slightly as Kurt eased in under the covers with him. He rolled onto his back and, grinning, caught Kurt's eyes.

"Watcha doin'?"

"Claiming my pillow."

With that, Kurt slid under Karofsky's arm, curled up and burrowed his cheek into the comfortable mound of Karofsky's belly. Kurt sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

"Mmm…soft and warm."

Karofsky stroked Kurt's hair. He listened to Kurt's breathing as he drifted off to sleep and for the first time in his life was glad that he had a little extra cushioning.

* * *

**OT:** I'm selling Kurtofsky t-shirts to raise money for a new computer. They're available at www dot skreened dot com slash kurtofsky. Thanks!

(Replace dot and slash with symbols).


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **This was a tough chapter to write. Thanks to everyone for being so patient. I apologize for any errors. And a special thank you to everyone who bought a t-shirt-appreciate the support!

**Warning: Sex. Character deaths. Necrophilia. Hanging. Disembowelment. **

* * *

PART 16

**Sachsenhausen, Late Summer of 1936**

Klaus relaxed in the afterglow of Nikolai's lovemaking, his fingers lazily stroking the odd sensation of the young Russian's shaved head. He planted a lingering kiss on Nikolai's skin. Nikolai uncurled from Klaus' chest with a loud yawn. He stretched, then scooted up the bed so that he was eye level with Klaus.

"So…", Nikolai's eyes were shining, "…now that you have come for me…"

Klaus swatted his shoulder at the bad pun. Nikolai grabbed his hand and held Klaus' gaze as he slowly drew his thumb into his mouth. Klaus sighed, eyes half-closed.

"…when can we go home?" Nikolai released Klaus' thumb and pulled another finger into his mouth to suckle.

"I am working on it."

"You are working on it?" Nikolai's playful grin faded. "What does that mean?"

Klaus ran a hand through his own hair. "It means I am working on getting us out of here."

Nikolai sat up, eyeing Klaus with concern. "You had a plan for coming to Sachsenhausen, yes?"

"Of course!" Klaus sat up against the headboard of the bed. "I had a plan for coming to Sachsenhausen." Klaus avoided Nikolai's eyes. "I do not quite have a plan for leaving."

Nikolai's face fell. He stared at Klaus in disbelief. His initial hope that he and Klaus would soon be back in Berlin vanished. He got up, shaking his head as he retrieved his clothing and draped it over a chair. Klaus' V.I.P. suite had the luxury of a private shower and Nikolai started for it. Klaus joined him moments later.

Klaus stepped into the hot shower with Nikolai and hugged him from behind.

"What is your hurry, Kolya?"

Nikolai shook the water out of his eyes as he turned in Klaus' arms.

"I must report to the Appelplatz soon for evening roll call."

Klaus took the soap from Nikolai and lathered up his lover's back with long, slow strokes.

"Skip it." Klaus said jokingly.

Nikolai snapped the water off suddenly, grabbed Klaus by the shoulders and pressed him against the tiles. It was the first time Klaus had noticed the fine lines of exhaustion under Nikolai's eyes. The slightest sharpness to his cheeks.

"Klaus…love…listen to me. Do not joke about such things. In this place you must be as you have never been before. If you cannot command the guards' respect, then you must earn their fear." Nikolai cupped Klaus' chin, tilting his face to meet his eyes. "Do you understand what I am telling you?"

"I understand." Klaus answered quietly, disturbed by the haunting seriousness in Nikolai's hazel green eyes.

"Do you? Will you raise a hand to me if it is necessary?"

Klaus was taken aback at the suggestion. "You want me to strike you, Kolya?"

"If it hitting me proves to the other officers that you are a good, loyal Nazi, then do it. If killing someone else keeps us alive, then you must do it. You must truly understand, Little Gosling, if we are to survive Sachsenhausen it must be by any means necessary."

Klaus drew away. "You have changed, Nikolai."

Nikolai reached out to brush Klaus' bangs from his forehead. "I was forced into circumstances not of my choosing. I have…adapted…as I needed to." He leaned in and brushed his lips over Klaus'. "Is it wrong that I wish to live?"

"Not wrong, no, of course not. It is only…"

Nikolai rested his forehead against Klaus'. "There were men who did not survive even the march from the train station to Sachsenhausen. Others were killed on the road to the brick factory." Nikolai took Klaus' hands in his. "I have endured, Klaus, and I am with you still." Nikolai's face softened as he kissed Klaus again. "For ever and always, yes?"

"Yes, of course!" Klaus reassured Nikolai with his kisses, pressing his body close to the young Russian's.

* * *

Klaus escorted Nikolai to the Appelplatz for evening roll call. He made certain that the kapo of Nikolai's barracks understood that Nikolai would begin a new work assignment at Block 19 tomorrow and was not to be sent to Klinkerwerk. The news was met with mixed reactions from the rest of the pink triangles who happened to overhear. Nikolai's two bunkmates were happy for him. And they knew that if it at all possible, Nikolai would see that they were added to Block 19 as well. The others watched in jealousy or with resignation as Nikolai rejoined them for roll call.

Klaus joined the other officers at the edge of the Appelplatz as the kapos prepared their counts. Brief introductions were made but Klaus sensed that the officers were more intent on watching the guards as they patrolled the prisoners.

Klaus listened idly to their chatter as he took in the process of evening roll call. Two of the guards were making a game of teasing a prisoner. They would grab his hat, toss it and then order him to fetch it. Klaus watched as the hat landed on a strip of gravel surrounding the Appelplatz. The prisoner froze. Klaus frowned. When the prisoner moved to one side, Klaus saw the warning signs posted.

He had just finished reading that any prisoner caught in that area would be shot immediately when he saw a prisoner bolt for the gravel strip. Behind him, he heard the officers laughing and placing bets on which guard would shoot the prisoner first. Klaus watched, horrified, as the prisoner ran on, full speed, never faltering. As soon as his foot touched the gravel, a volley of gunshots sounded and Klaus flinched at the onslaught. The prisoner's body jerked and spun around before thudding lifelessly to the ground.

Clapping and shouts of approval went up from the officers. Klaus looked away. His eyes fell on the gallows at the far end of the roll call site. His predecessor's corpse still swung from the noose. Klaus' gaze flicked to the side. Three prisoners had had their arms pulled behind their backs and been hung up on poles. Klaus could only imagine the pain they were in. He scanned the gathered prisoners, taking in their desolate eyes. They looked half-dead already.

He met Nikolai's eyes and, finally, understood what he had been trying to say earlier.

Surviving in Sachsenhausen would not be easy.

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Fall of 1936**

A few weeks after Klaus arrived at Sachsenhausen, Elfi and Sofia visited. They spent several hours entertaining the officers with songs and small talk and the younger men were left star struck after their performance. As Klaus walked the ladies to his room, he noticed that several of the officers who had been somewhat cool towards him were decidedly friendlier now.

Inside the privacy of the V.I.P. suite, Sofia sat quietly to one side while Elfi gave Klaus disappointing news.

"Your father sends his best."

"And-?"

"And if you wish to join the Auto Union, he is certain you can be released from your duties here at Sachsenhausen."

Klaus glanced at Sofia who said nothing.

"And Nikolai?"

Elfi shook her head.

"I will not leave him."

Elfi squeezed Klaus' hands. "I know. Your father hoped you might reconsider."

Klaus' shoulders slumped. "What of Nikolai's father?"

"The Nazis refused his offer to trade the tailor shop for Nikolai's release."

Klaus returned Elfi's squeeze of the hands. He looked toward Sofia and offered a tight smile.

"So, we will find another way for Nikolai and I to leave."

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Fall of 1936**

German soldier Klaus Hummel with homophile prisoner Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp.

Klaus read the captioned photo in the Russian behavioral science journal Commander Lippert had handed him. The photo and article were from the interview he and Nikolai had done with Pavlov's student from St. Petersburg State University. Klaus thought it had gone well. Judging from the pleased expression on Commander Lippert's face, he thought so, too. The commander handed a second copy of the journal to Nikolai.

"Well done."

Commander Lippert leaned back in his chair, giving Nikolai an appraising look.

"So, the Russian scientist believes you have been cured of your homophilia." The commander managed a thin smile. "Congratulations. I have filed papers for you to be reclassified."

Nikolai's throat tightened. He and Klaus both knew that reclassification would improve his chances of being released.

Two weeks after their meeting, Commander Michael Lippert was replaced and Nikolai's reclassification was never processed.

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Fall of 1936 - Summer of 1937**

In October of 1936, Karl Otto Koch replaced Michael Lippert as the commander of Sachsenhausen. After his arrival, he married a secretary at Sachsenhausen named Ilse Kohler. It wasn't long before rumors of Ilse's perverse cruelties towards the prisoners spread through the camp.

For the most part, Klaus and Nikolai were protected from the worst of Sachsenhausen's horrors because of their work on Operation Bernhard. But they were not entirely immune. One day in particular, Klaus noticed Nikolai and several of the other prisoners made repeated mistakes and could not seem to focus. Finally, even August Petrich lost his patience and snapped at them.

"Idiots! Again we will need to redo this. What is the matter with all of you?"

"One of my bunkmates was killed." Nikolai spoke quietly.

The Master Printer looked at his workers and was not entirely without compassion. But, he was a practical man. And they had a schedule to meet.

"That is to be expected in a place such as this."

"You do not understand." Nikolai continued. "_She_ had him skinned alive. For his tattoo." Nikolai swallowed hard and lowered his eyes. "I can still hear his screams."

Everyone fell silent. They all knew who Nikolai meant when he said "she".

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Winter of 1937**

Two commanders had come and gone and now the third, Hans Helwig, had been in place for six months.

For eighteen months, the stress of being at Sachsenhausen wore on Klaus and Nikolai.

They focused on their work and were careful not to be together so often that they would draw attention. On the rare occasions when Klaus would take Nikolai to his suite, their time together became more precious. Holding hands. A kiss. A hug. Every contact that they had to guard so closely against elsewhere held more meaning. Klaus kept Nikolai's journal safely locked in his desk. Whenever they were together, he encouraged his lover to write down his experiences and gave Nikolai the privacy to do so.

In the winter of 1937, their protective bubble shattered.

* * *

Finally, Lt. Dachs Schultz was in a position to collect on his revenge against Klaus Hummel. He approached Block 19 intent on putting his plans into motion but was stopped by the two guards. No amount of intimidation or threats would gain him access to the restricted area of Operation Bernhard. As much as it galled him, Dachs explained his purpose and waited outside while one of the guards delivered his message.

Shortly, the guard returned with Nikolai.

"Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky. You have been summoned for a renunciation test. Come with me."

Nikolai faltered. Klaus, August Petrich and Major Kruger were in a meeting with Commandant Helwig. Nikolai didn't want to be alone with Dachs but he couldn't refuse to obey an officer. Not without serious consequences. He tried to stall. "I am under direct orders of the Master Printer."

"_I_ am here on the direct order of ReichsführerHimmler. Do you think a mere civilian outranks the commander of the SS? Come!"

Nikolai and one of the guards followed Dachs along the angled wall of the compound and turned left, bringing them to the Pathology Building. Dachs led them past Pathology and into one of the Infirmary Barracks.

Once inside, they were met by Dr. Heinz Baumkotter. The doctor removed his glasses, wiped them off, replaced them and gave Nikolai a long, appraising look.

"Russian?"

"Yes." Dachs answered brusquely.

"He would be a good specimen for-"

"First things first, Doctor."

Dr. Baumkotter nodded. "Of course." He walked a short distance down the hall and stopped before a large room. "We are ready for you."

"One moment."

Dachs stood in the hallway watching Nikolai and savoring the moment. He knew the Russian suspected he was up to something. Dachs allowed himself a smile. He looked forward to seeing his face when he walked into that room.

"The test is quite simple." Dachs explained matter of factly to Nikolai. "We have secured a woman for you to have sex with. Perform to our satisfaction and you will no longer be classified as a homophile." Dachs glanced in the file he carried. "I understand you were considered for reclassification once before." He looked smug. "Pity it did not go through. Perhaps this time you will succeed, yes?"

Dachs turned and walked down the hall to join Dr. Baumkotter at the room's entrance. They both waited expectantly for Nikolai to join them.

The guard jabbed Nikolai with his rifle butt, prodding him down the hallway. They reached the room and followed Dachs and Dr. Baumkotter inside. A female guard was already inside with a female prisoner wearing a red triangle. The prisoner lifted her head and Nikolai's heart stopped when he recognized the familiar hazel eyes so like his own.

Zarya.

"Fuck her and Dr. Baumkotter will certify that you are no longer a homophile."

Zarya's eyes widened at Dachs' words. She paled as she quickly grasped the situation and understood the choice Nikolai faced. They were expected to have sex. The look on Dachs' face confirmed what Zarya suspected. He knew full well she was Nikolai's sister. He was setting her brother up to fail. Zarya's eyes flashed with hatred for the German.

"If you are concerned about her being an innocent, do not be." Dachs smirked. "I can personally guarantee her virtue is no longer an issue."

Zarya blushed, shamed by Dachs' casual admission that he had raped her. A single tear fell on her cheek. Nikolai crossed the room and took his sister in his arms. Zarya trembled in his embrace. Nikolai tightened his hold and buried his face into her shoulder. He felt Zarya's arms circle his waist.

"Good, good. This is an excellent start. Continue." Dr. Baumkotter spoke encouragingly, unaware that Nikolai and Zarya were related.

Zarya clung to Nikolai's shirt. He stroked her hair. Kissed her cheek. His voice was soft in her ear, whispering reassurances to her in Russian. Zarya forced herself to stop crying. She did not know what had become of her younger siblings or the rest of her family, but Nikolai was here, alive, and she would do what she could to protect him.

"Do what you must, Kolya."

She moved Nikolai's hand to her breast.

"No!" Nikolai recoiled, pushing her away. In that moment, they both realized he had condemned himself to Dachs' plans.

Dachs looked pleased.

"You have what you need, Dr. Baumkotter?"

"Yes, clearly the prisoner is still afflicted with the homophile disease."

"Take her away." Dachs said dismissively to the guards who, with some effort, finally separated Nikolai and Zarya. Zarya looked back over her shoulder for a last glimpse at Nikolai before the female guard shoved her out of the room and out of his sight.

"Tomorrow…" Dachs continued, stepping in front of Nikolai to make sure he had his attention. "…at noon you will report here for a physical examination. Afterwards, we will experiment to determine which treatment would be most beneficial for your condition. Do not worry." Dachs smiled coldly. "I am fully prepared to try as many experiments as necessary to ensure you are completely cured."

The guard escorted Nikolai back to Block 19. Klaus and the Master Printer both looked up in concern, obviously worried by Nikolai's absence. The bleak expression on Nikolai's face did little to reassure Klaus.

"…Dachs…"

"What of him?" Klaus demanded.

Nikolai cleared his throat and addressed Master Printer Petrich; he couldn't meet Klaus' eyes.

"Lt. Dachs Schultz has ordered me to report at noon tomorrow to begin treatment for homophilia."

"I see." August Petrich said calmly.

"Ridiculous." Klaus snapped. He glanced to August Petrich for confirmation. "Obviously Nikolai cannot be spared at this point in our work. If Lt. Schultz wishes to disrupt our operation with this nonsense, he will need to get approval from Major Kruger."

Nikolai met Klaus' eyes. "He said he is acting on orders from ReichsführerHimmler."

A look passed between them and Klaus felt the hopelessness weighing on his heart.

"Even Major Kruger cannot gainsay the Reichsführer." The Master Printer pointed out quietly. "So, tomorrow is not yet here. Today, there is still work to be done."

August Petrich removed a key from the set of keys jingling at his waist and handed it to Klaus.

"Take the Russian to Warehouse 13 and inventory the stock. Be thorough! There is much to go through and I expect an accurate count no matter how many hours it takes. Understand?"

Reluctantly, Klaus nodded. "Yes, Herr Petrich."

* * *

Klaus and Nikolai left Block 19 and silently walked to Warehouse 13, each lost in his own thoughts. Klaus unlocked the door to Warehouse 13 and, followed close behind by Nikolai, stepped inside and turned on the lights.

"This will not take us all afternoon to inventory." Nikolai murmured, looking around the space in confusion.

"No, it will not."

Klaus quickly closed the door and locked it. He felt a surge of gratitude for Master Printer Petrich. The so called "warehouse" was furnished with a bed, restroom and ice box. There were a few arbitrarily stocked shelves but clearly the building was intended for officer liaisons. The Master Printer had given Nikolai and Klaus a chance to be alone, well away from prying eyes.

Nikolai, still distraught from his encounter with Dachs, surveyed the room, frowning. "I do not understand. What are we supposed to do here?"

Klaus's lips curved invitingly as he stretched out on the bed. "Can you think of nothing, Kolya?"

Nikolai blushed. Klaus laid back on the clean sheets and plumped up pillows, amazed at how luxurious such basic amenities felt. He watched Nikolai, nervously pacing the floor, trying to inventory the few items there were to be counted. Klaus understood. Nikolai was distracting himself from the harsh reality of his situation.

"Zarya is here."

Klaus sat up, surprised. "Zarya?"

Nikolai nodded. "Dachs said if I were to…to fuck her…my own sister…" Nikolai teared up. "…if I were to do such a thing, he would reclassify me."

Nikolai's shoulders slumped as he looked helplessly to Klaus.

"She is my _sister_, how could I possibly-?"

"I know, Kolya."

Nikolai's hands balled up into fists. "But he could. He did." Nikolai's eyes flashed, remembering Dachs' words. "I want very much to see that sadistic rapist dead, Klaus."

"Come." Klaus held out his hand. Nikolai sat down on the bed and, after some coaxing, allowed Klaus to draw him into his arms. Klaus nuzzled his neck.

Nikolai sighed, emotional and physical exhaustion catching up to him. "We would have been in Moscow were it not for my foolishness."

Klaus trailed kisses along Nikolai's jaw. "Shh, do not say such things."

Nikolai stared at the ceiling.

"I would have liked to have seen Moscow."

"Then I will show it to you."

Nikolai smiled sadly. "Will you?"

"Yes. Close your eyes." Klaus nestled against Nikolai's shoulder and blew a soft puff of air against his neck. "Can you not feel the chill of Moscow's winter?"

"It feels surprisingly warm." Nikolai opened one eye. "And surprisingly like your breath, Klaus."

"Eyes closed!" Nikolai did as told. Klaus wriggled his arms under Nikolai's body to hold him. "You are wearing your coat."

Nikolai pulled Klaus' hands tighter around his waist. "…yes…"

"We are standing at the southern end of Red Square, in front of St. Basil's Cathedral."

Nikolai breathed out slowly. He could see St. Basil's so clearly in his mind thanks to the dozens of postcards, photographs and maps Klaus had horded over the past three years in preparation for Vkhutemas.

"The terra cotta colored towers with their colorful turrets."

"Like large onions on top."

"Yes, very bright onions. There is one with vertical blue and white stripes. Another with rows of red and green squares spiraling around its dome. And that one…that one looks like a pineapple." Klaus rubbed his cheek against Nikolai's. "Can you see them?"

"I see them."

Klaus slipped under Nikolai's arm to huddle against his body.

"It is starting to snow. Big, fat flakes." Klaus swept his fingers lightly across Nikolai's closed eyes. "I am brushing the snow from your eyelashes." Klaus' hand stroked lightly across Nikolai's head. "And your hair. Hold your tongue out. A little further. There." Klaus quickly dabbed the tip of his tongue to the center of Nikolai's. "You have caught a snowflake on your tongue." Nikolai, still holding his tongue out, managed to grin. Klaus repeated his actions. "And another."

Klaus darted in to Nikolai's tongue a few more times before the Russian successfully captured Klaus' tongue with his. Nikolai chuckled as their tongues darted against each other.

"I am pulling you away from the statue of Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky." Nikolai took up the narrative. "We are in the middle of square now."

"Where?"

"At Lenin's tomb."

"Kolya-"

"Shh, it is a good thing." Nikolai opened his eyes. "You are thanking him for creating the Vkhutemas school." Nikolai's eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly at Klaus. "Which you will be graduating from soon."

Klaus kissed Nikolai's lips. "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes." Nikolai did as told. "We are at the Bolshoi Theatre."

Klaus imagined standing with Nikolai at the fountain in front of the Bolshoi Theatre. At sunset. Nikolai's hand would be in his as they gazed at the classical Greco-Roman portico supported by its eight pale columns and adorned with friezes and statues. They would take one last look at the quadriga sculpture of four horses which topped the pinnacle of the entrance before going inside to take their seats.

"Who are we seeing?"

"Vaslav Nijinsky."

"Nijinsky? But he is-"

"Shh…the ballet is about to begin."

"'Afternoon of a Faun?'" Nikolai asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Of course!" Klaus leaned into Nikolai's shoulder. "Tonight, for us, Nijinsky is here and well…and he will be magnificent!"

"He has very nice thighs."

Klaus slid his hand down Nikolai's leg. "He is not the only one."

He moved over until he was laying on top of Nikolai, the length of his body comfortably stretched out over his lover's. Nikolai groaned. His hands settled on Klaus' hips. They lay in each other's arms, reassured by the physical closeness.

Klaus fingered the buttons on Nikolai's shirt and began unfastening them. As each button was loosened, he kissed the newly bared skin. Klaus' mouth ghosted over Nikolai's erection.

"Let me pleasure you, Kolya."

Before, Nikolai had always refused when Klaus wanted to take him by mouth. But this time-their last time, Nikolai thought to himself-he couldn't turn away from the naked yearning in Klaus' green eyes. After a moment, he nodded his consent. The instant Klaus' tongue touched him, Nikolai jolted off the bed, the shock of the sensation sparking through him like a snap of static electricity.

Klaus lapped across Nikolai's head again before sucking the tip between his lips. The half-strangled noise coming from Nikolai became a throaty moan as he rocked his hips to meet Klaus' mouth. Klaus gagged and pulled back with a gentle laugh.

"Easy, love."

Nikolai blushed but flashed Klaus a boyish grin. Klaus tongued him again. Nikolai fell back against the pillows, uttering a string of Russian expletives.

"Such language." Klaus murmured, amused by Nikolai's reaction. The young Russian's fingers twisted in Klaus' hair, tensing and relaxing, following the rhythm Klaus set.

There was a sudden noise outside the warehouse. Klaus and Nikolai both tensed, jolted back to the reality of Sachsenhausen. They waited. Silence. Klaus stroked Nikolai's thighs, trying to restore the mood.

"We must be quiet."

"Because of the guards?" Nikolai asked warily.

"Guards? Silly boy, there are no guards here." Klaus fingered the soft curls at the base of Nikolai's penis. "We must not wake the children."

Nikolai looked at Klaus as if he had lost all reason. Then, gradually, he relaxed and laid back down against the pillows.

"…twins…" Nikolai allowed himself to be seduced again by Klaus and his fantasy of a life they would never have.

"…two boys…"

"They have your eyes."

"And your smile." Klaus gazed lovingly at Nikolai's face as he went down on his lover, taking as much of him into his mouth as he could. The look of ecstasy on Nikolai's face was worth any momentary discomfort Klaus felt.

Nikolai closed his eyes. In his mind they were back in Klaus' studio in Berlin. A smile tugged at his lips. Their studio now. He imagined two little boys napping in a makeshift bedroom he and Klaus had made out of a large closet. He ran his thumb over his left hand. Where his wedding band would be. A glass of absinthe would be on the table next to the bed. The afternoon sunlight dappling Klaus' bare shoulders as he knelt between Nikolai's thighs.

Home.

Nikolai fisted the sheets.

"…ughn…"

Klaus saw the smiles flickering across Nikolai's face. It was the happiest he had seen him since they had been at Sachsenhausen. Klaus tightened his fingers on Nikolai's shaft, tongue pulling on him harder as he heard Nikolai's breath catching. Klaus' named died on Nikolai's lips as he came, mindlessly thrusting into the tight wetness of Klaus' mouth. Klaus swallowed around him, loving the taste and feel of Nikolai coming.

They lay together on the bed, Nikolai regaining his breath, face flushed and relaxed. Klaus curled up at his side, head resting on Nikolai's chest. The afternoon was passing quickly. Nikolai realized they needed to talk.

"I think…" Nikolai hesitated. "…I think tomorrow I must take my life, Klaus."

"It will not be necessary."

"No?"

"I will kill Dachs."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"Another will come to take his place."

"I will kill him, also."

Nikolai sighed. "You cannot kill them all, Little Gosling."

Klaus nuzzled Nikolai's chest. "Then we will die together."

"No."

Klaus' throat tightened with emotion. "No?" He left the bed, pacing restlessly before he turned to face Nikolai again. "No?" Klaus shook his head, denying Nikolai's words. "Would you have me remain, alone, to live my life without you?"

Nikolai blinked back tears. "Yes…you must." Nikolai went to Klaus and tried to hold him but Klaus pushed his arms away. Nikolai sighed. "If you love me, please, do as I am asking you. Stay and protect Zarya."

Klaus' shoulders were shaking. "Do not ask this of me." Nikolai reached for him again. Again, Klaus tried to push him away but this time, Nikolai wrapped his arms around Klaus and held him fast. "Do not!" Klaus' voice broke. "…do not…". Nikolai hugged him tighter, pressing his cheek to Klaus' hair.

"Promise me."

Klaus shook his head. Nikolai kissed the top of Klaus' head.

"Would you leave me to Dachs?"

Klaus shook his head again.

"Tomorrow at morning roll call, I will break and run for the gravel strip. You will be watching. As soon as I enter the death zone, you will shoot me. It is a good plan, yes?"

Klaus turned in Nikolai's arms to study his face. He saw Nikolai's resolve and drew on a strength deep within himself to try and put Nikolai at ease.

"It is a good plan." Klaus said reassuringly.

Privately, he suspected it was a horrible plan, more likely to fail than not. Nikolai was right. Klaus had no feasible alternatives to offer and he would never let Dachs experiment on Nikolai. A cold realization came to Klaus. He would rather see Nikolai die than to see him suffering. And, Klaus followed that line of thought, he would rather see Nikolai die quickly. He looked into Nikolai's trusting face and vowed to have a back up plan in case Nikolai's resolve failed him tomorrow.

"I will take care of Zarya. You have my word."

"Yes?" Nikolai searched Klaus' face for any sign of doubt.

"I have said so."

Nikolai claimed Klaus' mouth in a fervent kiss.

* * *

Nikolai trudged out of the barracks for morning roll call along with the rest of the prisoners. They passed two frost covered corpses still hanging from the gallows without a second glance and continued on to assemble in the frozen clearing of the Appelplatz.

The prisoners with their pink triangles, like the ones wearing red triangles and yellow Stars of David, huddled together for warmth against the early morning cold. Unlike with the other groups, however, the guards used this as an opportunity to beat the homophiles under the pretense of inappropriate contact.

Nikolai and the rest of his barracks were struck repeatedly until, reluctantly, they fanned out to stand alone, shivering as they watched the other prisoners continue to gather close together, unmolested by the guards.

Nikolai's eyes were drawn back to the gallows. A few of the guards, out of boredom or maliciousness, had led their dogs over to the bodies and were encouraging them to attack. One of the dogs sniffed at the dead man's foot. Urged on by his handler, the German shepherd seized the foot and, growling, began shaking it vigorously. Nikolai looked away, sickened by the sight.

A woman's gasp caused him to look back. The dogs were attacking the dead woman now as well, savaging both of the corpses to the cheers and laughter of the guards. Nikolai sought for and found Klaus standing unobtrusively to the side, his attention focused elsewhere. As if sensing Nikolai's gaze on him, Klaus turned and met the young Russian's eyes. Nikolai turned his head towards the gallows. Klaus followed his lead and saw the commotion.

Klaus strolled around the perimeter of the prisoners, eventually putting himself between Nikolai and his view of the gallows. Nikolai's love for Klaus deepened. Even to the end, Klaus moved to protect him as best as he could. Even if it was only to protect Nikolai's sensibilities from the daily atrocities of Sachsenhausen.

"Do you wish to run?"

Nikolai startled at Dachs' voice unexpectedly at his shoulder. Dachs unsnapped his holster. Nikolai panicked. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not with Dachs. He shook his head.

"No?" Dachs traced the barrel of his pistol along Nikolai's jaw. "I think maybe yes."

Nikolai saw Klaus watching them, tight lipped, expression guarded. And yet, he gave no indication that he would intercept Dachs.

"I will count to ten. You may run as soon as I begin. One."

Nikolai nervously licked his lips. "I do not wish to run, sir."

"Then I will shoot you where you stand." Dachs growled softly. "Two."

Klaus held Nikolai's gaze a moment, then his eyes flicked worriedly to somewhere behind Nikolai.

"Three."

Nikolai faced straight ahead, eyes tracking Klaus' movements until Dachs pressed the barrel of his gun to Nikolai's lips.

"Open your mouth."

Nikolai squeezed his eyes shut and did as he was told.

"Four."

Dachs slid the barrel slowly across Nikolai's lips and into his mouth. Then just as slowly pulled out. Nikolai concentrated on Klaus. His eyes had looked past Nikolai, over his left shoulder. To the red triangles. The political prisoners.

Zarya.

"Five."

Surely Klaus had gone to Zarya, Nikolai thought to himself, reassured by the idea that Klaus was looking out for his sister.

Klaus had seen the cold fury on Zarya's face and belatedly realized she had a clear view of Nikolai and Dachs. He started towards her even as he saw her hands ball up into tight little fists. She only managed two steps in Dachs' direction before he intercepted her.

"Russian whore!" Klaus swore loudly at Zarya as he backhanded her, knocking her to the ground and leaving her momentarily stunned. "If you will not stand at attention, then you will crawl beneath my boot until you learn your place." With that, Klaus stepped one foot on Zarya's back, holding her firmly to the ground.

Nikolai heard Klaus' slur. And the hard slap that followed. He hated the thought that Klaus might have hurt Zarya, even if it was to keep her safe. Dachs barely glanced in Klaus' direction, more interested in tormenting Nikolai.

"Eight. You are running out of time."

Nikolai's breath caught in his throat. He had lost three counts, distracted by Klaus and Zarya. He blinked quickly, determined not to give Dachs the satisfaction of seeing tears in the last moments of his life.

Dachs stepped to Nikolai's side, giving him a clear path to the gravel death zone. Nikolai considered running. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Klaus.

"Nine." Laughter crept into Dachs' voice.

Nikolai willed himself to run but fear kept him frozen, motionless, as if any movement on his part would only end his life sooner.

"Ten."

Dachs fired. Nikolai cried out, reflexively closing his eyes and flinching as blood from the prisoner standing next to him spattered across his face. He lost control of his bladder. Trembling, Nikolai finally dared to open his eyes. Dachs was speaking to him but his ears were still ringing from the gunshot being fired so close. Eventually, Nikolai was able to understand what Dachs said.

"Do not think of running, _Kolya_." Dachs kicked at the prisoner he had just killed. "Or the next time, my bullet will be for Klaus."

Dachs turned and exclaimed loudly to the few guards who had been watching the drama unfold. "See how the Russian dog has pissed himself!"

Nikolai lowered his head, embarrassed. Not because of Dachs, but because he didn't want Zarya and Klaus to see him distraught and shaken.

Klaus took his foot from Zarya's back, grabbed her elbows and pulled her to her feet. She spat in his face and tried to break free. Klaus tightened his grip, furious. He shook her hard, once.

"Listen to me! It is Kolya who needs my attention now, not you. I cannot see to his welfare with you underfoot."

Zarya stilled. "He is not dead?"

Her voice wavered and Klaus was gentler in his approach.

"No, Zarya, he is not dead."

Klaus stepped aside and Zarya saw for herself that Nikolai was still standing.

"I will go to him."

"You will not." Klaus said firmly, leaving no question his mind was set on the matter. He turned Zarya over to the kapo of her barracks and she was led away.

* * *

Any remaining doubts Klaus had about his plan vanished when he saw the stark fear in Nikolai's eyes. If only a few moments alone with Dachs could leave his beautiful boy shaking so uncontrollably, Klaus knew that Nikolai would break down completely if forced to endure the sadist's attentions for any length of time.

"…I could not do it…" Nikolai had his arms wrapped tight about his waist, hugging himself, eyes wide and darting frantically from the dead prisoner at his feet to the gravel strip to Klaus. "…I could not…" A single, desperate sob escaped.

"Come with me." Klaus turned but realized that Nikolai had not moved. "Come." He said with more authority. This time, Nikolai followed meekly. Klaus resisted the urge to take Nikolai in his arms and comfort him.

They had already said their goodbyes.

Now, before the guards and officers in the crowded expanse of the Appelplatz, there were appearances that had to be maintained. Klaus clasped his hands tight behind his back and withdrew behind a mask of cool detachment. He still had responsibilities to see too. If he dropped his guarded emotions now, he would never be able to carry out Nikolai's wishes.

"I am a coward." Nikolai whispered quietly as he walked at Klaus' side.

They were well enough away from everyone that Klaus judged it safe to offer some reassurances.

"All will be well, Nikolai." Nikolai. Even that small intimacy of calling him Kolya, Klaus thought to himself, would be enough to undo his resolve. "Trust me."

Nikolai bit back a whimper. But Klaus heard. Such a small, vulnerable sound. He turned, and he was struck by how very young Nikolai was. The flush of youth still on his lips. He was thinner, more pale, but Klaus still saw in him the perfection he had thought to sketch once upon a time. Long ago in another life.

Something in Klaus died in that moment.

Making sure they were not seen, Klaus laced his fingers through Nikolai's and squeezed. The gesture seemed to calm Nikolai and bring him back to himself. He looked at Klaus with clear eyes, fully aware of his presence.

"Trust me." Klaus repeated with more conviction.

Nikolai nodded.

* * *

At ten minutes till noon, a guard came to escort Nikolai from Block 19 to the Infirmary. He hadn't seen Klaus since morning roll call. Nikolai felt guilty. Perhaps he had asked too much of Klaus. He silently promised that whatever happened with Dachs and his experiments, he would never let Klaus blame himself. Nikolai entered the infirmary exam room calmly resigned to whatever his fate was to be.

He was surprised that Dr. Baumkotter and Dachs weren't there. Instead, another German doctor with a kind face and inquisitive brown eyes took his paperwork and checked him in.

"Name?"

"Karofsky, Nikolai Petrovich."

"Age?"

"18."

"Weight?"

"I do not know, sir."

The doctor nodded. "We will get that later." He waved Nikolai towards the wall.

"Stand over there next to the measuring stick so I may get your height."

Nikolai stood straight against the wall.

"Hold still. Good. You are Russian?"

The doctor stayed at the table, still writing down Nikolai's information.

"Yes."

"From Moscow?"

"No."

"Have you ever been to Moscow?" The doctor's tone was friendly, curious.

A secretive smile played across Nikolai's lips.

"Yes, once."

"How was it?"

"As if I had lived a lifetime."

From the hidden room directly behind where Nikolai stood, Klaus fired a single shot, killing his lover instantly. Klaus heard his body thud to the floor. He followed soon after, collapsing to his knees under the weight of a grief unlike any he had ever known. He fell back against the wall. Klaus raised the gun to his temple. One more bullet to end his own pain. The temptation was so strong.

Only his last promise to Nikolai kept him from pulling the trigger.

Several long moments passed. Klaus heard movement in the main room. And then he had the horrible thought that perhaps Nikolai had not died. Perhaps he was laying there alive and suffering. It was a more unbearable thought than to think of Nikolai dead. Klaus forced himself to his feet. He steadied his shaking hand enough to unlatch the door and walk out into the examination room.

Nikolai was dead. He lay on his back staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Klaus passed his hand over Nikolai's eyes, closing them. He gathered Nikolai in his arms and wept.

* * *

_It is done. Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky is dead, his life ended by my own hand. _

Klaus looked over what he had written in Nikolai's journal. One line scrawled beneath

the date, time and place of Nikolai's death. It had been an effort to write even that much. Someone knocked on the door. Reluctantly, Klaus slid the journal back into his desk drawer and locked it.

"Come in."

Vaughn, the guard who had first escorted Klaus and Nikolai to the V.I.P. suite on his first day at Sachsenhausen, entered.

"Yes, Vaughn?"

"…downstairs…"

"I do not feel up to socializing at the moment."

"No, it's-Lt. Schultz."

"What of him?" Klaus asked wearily.

"He is downstairs…with your Russian apprentice."

"You are mistaken. My apprentice-Nikolai-is dead."

"Sir…" Vaughn stammered. "…he is downstairs with the Russian's body."

Klaus stared blankly at Vaughn as the guard's words slowly penetrated his numbness.

"…no…"

"I saw him myself, Sergeant."

Klaus slammed past the guard, bolting out of the room and down the stairs until he burst into the combined common hall and dining area of the officers' quarters. Several officers stood in a loose semi-circle well away from one of the tables. They looked shocked, disgusted and more than a little shaken.

Klaus saw the eyes first. Nikolai's familiar hazel eyes that had been gouged out and set aside on a small plate. Then he glimpsed Dachs' head and bare shoulders rising and falling. He shoved his way through the crowd. He stopped short, a strangled cry dying in his throat when he reached the front.

Nikolai's body sprawled on the table. His arms and legs spilled lifelessly over the edges. Streaks of blood trailed down his cheeks from empty eye sockets.

Dachs, stripped of shirt, pants unfastened and pulled down to his thighs, straddled Nikolai's torso. His white blonde hair clung to his face in damp strands. His eyes unnaturally bright, intensely focused. Dachs gripped Nikolai's hair with one hand. With his other hand, he guided himself as he thrust in and out of Nikolai's mouth.

"Dachs!" Klaus finally found his voice.

Dachs turned, laughing triumphantly even as he continued to ride Nikolai's lips with an almost manic frenzy.

"He is still warm."

Klaus used a bench for leverage as he climbed up, violently pulled Dachs off the table and threw him to the floor. Dachs leered up at Klaus, still laughing.

"I was the last to have him." Dachs stumbled to his feet, smirking. "Not you." He yanked his pants up and fastened them as he eyed Klaus. "And he was alive when I started."

Those words cut the last ties Klaus had to his sanity. He struck Dachs once. Twice. Then lost himself to the mindless repetition of his fists pounding Dachs' flesh. How many times his blows landed, he could not say. Beating Dachs fed a deep, primal rage in Klaus. He slammed his foot into Dachs' side and heard a satisfying crack as something broke.

Vaughn tried several times before he finally succeeded in pulling Klaus off of Dachs.

* * *

Ironically, it was Himmler's own orders condemning homophiles in the SS that brought Dachs to his end. Commandant Helwig, along with other high ranking SS officers, had received explicit instructions that any officer engaged in unnatural activities with another man was to be executed.

Helwig, who by now was well aware of the hatred between Klaus and Dachs, had a perverse desire to see how Klaus might exact his revenge if given the freedom to do so. Under the pretense that Nikolai had been Klaus' apprentice and justice was due to Klaus, Commandant Helwig ordered that Dachs was to be executed according to Klaus' instructions.

Commandant Helwig and the officers, guards, kapos and prisoners of Sachsenhausen were turned out on the Appelplatz at dawn two days later to witness Lt. Dachs Schultz's execution.

Klaus walked down the steps of the gallows. He nodded to the hangman, a prisoner named Paul Sakowski, who drew the lever for the trapdoor. Dachs dropped the short distance in a heartbeat. Klaus watched impassively as Dachs struggled against the noose. Exactly one minute later, Klaus used his service dagger to cut him down.

As Dachs fell at his feet, frantically gasping for air, Klaus scanned the faces of the guards and officers gathered on the Appelplatz. He saw their smirks. Heard their disparaging comments about his apparent inability to complete the execution. Even the commandant raised a questioning eyebrow. Klaus shook his head. He was far from finished.

"…weak…"

Dachs' voice was coming back as he regained his breath.

"…knew you…would never…"

He croaked out a laugh.

"…not even…for…_Kolya_…"

He spat out Nikolai's nickname as if it were something foul in his mouth. Dachs wheezed, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. Klaus gave him another moment to recover, then looked to Paul Sakowski waiting on the gallows platform.

"Hang him again."

Two prisoners Klaus had chosen grabbed Dachs and roughly hauled him to his feet. One of the prisoners had been Nikolai's surviving bunkmate. The other was Dachs' last victim, an 18 year old newlywed who had refused Dachs' sexual advances. Dachs had sent him to Sachsenhausen with explicit orders that he was to be physically castrated. Dachs wavered on his feet but soon gained his balance and began struggling against the two men who held him fast.

When the crowd saw Dachs being led back up the stairs to the gallows, a cry of protest went up from some of the officers. Several approached the commandant to voice their complaints quite loudly. One voice rose above the others.

"You cannot allow this. He is one of us-an officer. Only a madman would allow such an atrocity!"

"A madman?" Commandant Helwig repeated with deceptive calmness.

A deadly silence fell over the Appelplatz. The officer who had spoken paled and took a step back, realizing the jeopardy his passionate outburst had put him in. The commandant's nervous breakdown after commanding Bruschsal prison, subsequent recovery and eventual appointment to Sachsenhausen had been the subject of officer gossip since Helwig's first day at the camp. Rumor and speculation about his fitness as commandant followed in his wake.

But never had an officer questioned the commandant's qualifications in public.

Commandant Helwig nodded to Klaus to continue. Then he turned to the outspoken officer and held his gaze for one long, silent, uncomfortable moment.

"Do you wish to register a formal complaint?"

Dachs, standing at the gallows with the second noose around his neck, waited expectantly.

"No, Commandant." The officer turned on his heel and withdrew into the crowd.

The second time Dachs was hanged, he soiled himself. Again, after exactly one minute, Klaus cut him free. Dachs' labored breathing broke the stillness of the Appelplatz. The crowd was focused on a third noose yet to be used. Klaus looked into eyes that wouldn't meet his and remembered Nikolai's earlier words. He had, indeed, earned the fear of his fellow officers with his revenge against Dachs. A weary resignation came over him and he was ready for this morbid spectacle to end.

The third time Dachs was led to the gallows, Klaus saw one of the officers draw his service pistol, prepared to give Dachs a quick death. Wordlessly, Klaus drew his own Luger P08. He fired one shot, knocking the pistol from the officer's hand, then quickly aimed at the officer's head. The officer cradled his injured hand to his chest and backed away.

Klaus turned back to the gallows platform. Dachs, even to this moment, glared defiantly, holding onto his hatred until his last breath.

"I will kill you."

"I am already dead."

Klaus nodded and, for the final time, the hangman released the trapdoor and Dachs swung down.

For the third time, Klaus waited exactly one minute, watching Dachs' face darken as he fought for each breath.

This time, Klaus used his dagger to cut through Dachs' bound hands. Immediately, the hanging man scrabbled at his noose, working his fingers under the rope trying to ease the pressure on his neck. Klaus watched Dachs frantically clawing at his neck. Listened, unmoved, to his desperate gasping.

Klaus' knife flashed again, cutting low and deep across Dachs' belly, exposing his organs. He turned and walked away, leaving the hanging man's intestines to spill out onto the ground. Dachs grimaced, unable to draw enough air to scream. One hand clutched at the noose strangling him, the other grasped futilely at his open wound.

Klaus approached the guards holding the dogs.

"Release them, let the dogs do as they will."

The guards glanced at Commandant Helwig who nodded. The dogs bolted towards Dachs. Klaus forced himself to watch. In the end, he never knew if the desperate, high pitched mewling came from the dogs savaging his body or from Dachs himself.

* * *

Klaus had Nikolai's journal opened before him again, rereading his entry. He considered what else he would wish someone to know about Nikolai's death other than his own guilty part in it. He thought of Zarya. Of Iakov. Of Nikolai's parents. And then, Klaus thought of what reassurance he would want his own father, Bertram, to have if he had been the one to die. He added another line.

_It was a good death._

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

**Vkhutemas **was a Moscow art and technical school established by a signed decree from Lenin. It was comparable to the German Bauhaus school. Established in 1920, it was, unfortunately, dissolved in 1930.

**Vaslav Nijinsky **was a famous Russian ballet dancer (born of Polish parents) noted for his ability to dance en pointe (a technique usually mastered by ballerinas not male dancers) and his leaps. He also choreographed several ballets. Among them, **"Afternoon Of A** **Faun"** (l'après-midi d'un faune) which received some hostile attention because of the masturbation choreography at the end. He suffered a breakdown in 1919 and was later diagnosed with schizophrenia. He last danced in public for a group of Russian soldiers in the final days of WWII.

**The hidden room/measuring stick method of executing Russian prisoners** was used in the Sachsenhausen and Buchenwald concentration camps. Thousands of prisoners were killed using this method.

**Ilse (Kohler) Koch, **wife of Sachsenhausen commander Karl Otto Koch, became infamous for having prisoners killed so she could collect their tattoos. It's alleged that she had lamp shades made out of tattooed skin.

Hans Helwig commanded Sachsenhausen from July of 1937 to January of 1938. He had a reputation for being vicious and boasted of atrocities committed at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. After a complaint was sent to Heinrich Himmler regarding Helwig's failure to follow protocol, he was removed.

**Heinrich Himmler** issued private instructions regarding gays in the SS. Specifically, any member of the SS or police who engaged in indecent behavior with another man was to be executed.

**Short drop (strangulation) hanging** was commonly used in German occupied territories during World War II along with the guillotine. (Hangings and shootings were commonly used in Sachsenhausen before a gas chamber was added some time later.)

In a short drop hanging, there isn't enough force to break the person's neck and kill him. Instead, he strangles to death. The victim can remain conscious for up to three minutes and remain alive for ten to twenty-five minutes or longer. There's one account on record of a person being revived after hanging for half an hour and living for many years after the incident.

**Paul Sakowski** was a Sachsenhausen prisoner who served as the hangman and foreman of the crematorium from 1941-1943.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **First, I apologize for any errors/choppiness of this chapter. I've been really sick this week.

A very special thank you to **previously-sane** and **firithnovwen** for the lovely artwork they created for Paragraph 175. You can find it over on tumblr under the tag "rubyliss". Firithnovwen also has a picture of Nikolai and Klaus under the "kurtofsky" tag.

Burt is intentionally spelled Bert at first.

The Dick, Jane and Spot quote refers to the **Dick and Jane** series written by William S. Gray and Zerna Sharp and published by Scott Foresman. **Dick and Jane** books were used for several decades to teach grade school children how to read.

**Never Tease A Weasel **written by Jean Conder Soule, illustrated by Denman Hampson (1st edition).

**One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish** written by Dr. Seuss.

**Warning: Character deaths.**

* * *

PART 17

**Sachsenhausen, Winter of 1937**

The evening roll call was quiet and no nonsense. Dachs' body had been removed hours ago. The guards had been quick to disassemble the gallows and, even though it was early, hurriedly put a Christmas tree in its place. Still, an uncomfortable silence fell over the Appelplatz.

After roll call, Klaus spoke with the kapo of Zarya's barracks, informing her that Zarya would be spending the night with him. The kapo gave him a knowing smirk before she went and brought Zarya to him. Zarya glared at Klaus. The kapo gave her a warning kick.

"If you displease him, little Russian, you will answer to me."

"_If_ it becomes necessary to discipline her-" Klaus stressed to the kapo, "-I will see to it, not you."

The kapo nodded and left to escort the rest of the women prisoners back to the barracks.

"Come."

Klaus turned and walked away. Zarya stood her ground, fists at her side. Klaus strode back to her.

"Come or I will put you over my shoulder and carry you."

Zarya's eye flicked to the gravel strip bordering the Appelplatz, the death zone.

"I am here to protect you, Zarya."

"I do not think I will survive much longer under your 'protection'. You raised your hand to me. You held me underfoot as if I were a worm to be crushed under the heel of your boot. You kept me from my brother in the last hours of his life. I will never forgive you. My children…my grandchildren…I will ensure that every generation of my family reviles you for what you have done."

Klaus grabbed Zarya's wrist and tugged her across the Appelplatz.

"Zarya, if you live long enough to have children…and grandchildren…then I will have kept my promise to Kolya."

Eventually, Klaus and Zarya made it back to his suite. Zarya stayed near the door as Klaus removed his hat and coat.

"Sit, you will be here all night."

"I will not be your whore."

Klaus gave her a scathing look, "I would not have you." He settled into the chair behind his desk. "This is only for appearances, to keep the other men here from bothering you."

Zarya looked up haughtily. "Perhaps I prefer other men to you."

"Other men like Dachs?"

Klaus immediately regretted his sharp retort when he saw the hurt in Zarya's eyes. He unlocked his desk drawer, took Nikolai's journal out and set it before Zarya.

"I thought you might find comfort in reading Kolya's words."

He moved a pen closer to her.

"I have added my own thoughts, things I wanted to remember of him. Perhaps you would like to do the same."

Zarya sat down opposite Klaus. Her fingers reached for Nikolai's journal and he could seen the longing in her face to read her brother's words.

"Will you read what I write?"

"I will respect your privacy."

"And if I read what you have written?"

Klaus met Zarya's questioning eyes with his own steady gaze.

"I loved Kolya. I regret nothing I have written."

Zarya ran her fingers over the cover of the journal, considering.

"These are his last words."

"Yes."

"What did he say…at the end?"

"I do not know." Klaus turned away. "I could not bear to read his last entry. Not yet."

Zarya opened the journal and quickly found her brother's final words.

"Then I will read it for you."

"Zarya, please, I beg you, do not-"

Zarya ignored him, reading the last line Nikolai had written out loud. She frowned.

"What is this nonsense?"

Startled, Klaus took the journal from Zarya. His fingers trembled as he traced the carefully inked letters. Nikolai's first words to Klaus had become his last, also. His final gift to his Little Gosling to forever capture that moment in time when he and Klaus had first met.

_The Bienenstich is very good._

* * *

Every few days, Klaus brought Zarya back to the officers' quarters, making sure they were seen by as many guards and officers as possible along the way. Zarya never mentioned it but Klaus saw for himself that the other men were leaving her alone. Over time, with the promise of access to Nikolai's journal, she became less resistant to Klaus' summons.

One day, Klaus asked for Zarya in the afternoon. When she arrived, she noticed how tired he looked. He motioned for her to sit down and she took the seat across from him as she usually did.

"I have news for you. I discovered what became of the twins." Klaus hurried on, avoiding the sudden look of hope on Zarya's face. "They were sent to Auschwitz. They did not survive." He reached for Zarya's hand. "I am so sorry."

"We were separated at the train station. One moment I was holding their hands and the next…" Zarya's voice trailed off. "A soldier forced us apart."

"Zarya. Zarya, look at me. I have other news, better news."

Zarya looked up bleakly.

"Kolya is dead. The twins, also dead. What other news could possibly matter to me?"

"Your parents and Iakov are alive and safe. In America, Zarya." He squeezed her hand and smiled. "They made it to America."

"They left us?" Zarya's voice broke. "I thought they were out there-somewhere-looking for us."

"They went to America to make a new home for you, Zarya."

Zarya blinked back tears. "Do you think that is so?"

"I am certain of it."

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, January of 1938**

"Hermann Baranowski." Commandant Helwig's speech was slurred from the beers he had been drinking all afternoon.

Klaus glanced at Vaughn, who shrugged his shoulders. Neither of them had any idea why the commander had summoned them or the other guards and officers gathered in Helwig's office.

"I am being replaced by Hermann Baranowski. " Helwig sipped his beer. "Because _someone _in Sachsenhausen complained about me." He slammed his mug on the table, sloshing beer onto his uniform. "Well, today I am still the commandant." He reached for a stack of papers on his desk. "And today I have decided to reward my _loyal_ soldiers for supporting me. Congratulations, gentlemen, effective immediately you are once again civilians." Helwig smiled broadly, pleased with himself.

"I do not understand, Commandant."

"What is to understand? You are being discharged, Sgt. Hummel. Go home and serve the Reich by having babies. Many babies, yes? Strong sons to become soldiers and strong daughters to make more babies." Commandant Helwig chuckled. "And take the Russian girl with you."

"The Russian girl?"

"Let us not play games with one another, Klaus. I know very well that little bitch has been warming your bed these past few weeks." Helwig saluted Klaus with his mug of beer. "Good for you! Take her. You will be glad enough of her once your Elfi is with child and not so-accommodating-of your needs." He used his uniform sleeve to wipe the froth from his mouth. "And Elfi will be glad enough of an extra pair of hands once the children come."

Klaus didn't know whether to cry with relief or laugh at the absurdity of his situation. Eighteen months of desperate planning and strategy had failed to release him from Sachsenhausen. And now his freedom was being handed to him by no less than the commandant himself all because of a political pissing contest.

If only Nikolai had lived long enough to share this moment.

* * *

**Berlin, January of 1938**

When Klaus and Zarya returned to Berlin, they were surprised by the arrangements Elfi, Sofia and Bertram already had in place for their departure to America. They had pooled their resources with the Puckermans and the Schulmeyers. In exchange for Bertram's influence and financial aid in helping them secure their papers and book first class passage on a steam ship to the United States, the Puckermans and Schulmeyers promised to help Klaus and Elfi with travel, employment and housing.

The Schulmeyers, former employees for Bertram, owned a small tire shop in Lima, Ohio and promised to employ Klaus there until he found something more suitable. They were also willing to offer a small house, free of rent, for the first month. Elfi's cousin, an English teacher named Bill Schuester, had gotten her a position teaching French at Lima's William McKinley High School. Sofia, who had been to America before, had a signed, three month contract to sing at a well-known club in New York.

The Puckermans had relatives working at Ellis Island and contacts in U.S. Immigration to call on if any of their group ran into problems. It seemed everything was covered.

"What of me?" Zarya finally spoke up after listening to their plans.

"Your parents have been in America as green card holders for over a year. As their daughter, you will get in." Sofia patted Zarya's shoulder reassuringly.

Klaus noted that Zarya seemed to warm up to Sofia's motherly attention and was glad of it.

* * *

**New York City Harbor, March of 1938**

"It is not Moscow."

Elfi said softly, leaning against Klaus' shoulder as he sketched the New York City skyline from the ship's deck. It was one of the few moments they had been able to be alone together.

"It is not Moscow…and I am not Nikolai."

Klaus looked up from his drawing, concerned. He read the unspoken questions in his new bride's eyes. Would he be happy with only her?

"Elfi Elise Schuester Hummel, I would never want you to be other than who you are. Moscow was an opportunity. This, too, is an opportunity, love." He brought Elfi's hand to his lips and kissed it. "We will see what it offers and make of it what we can.

"Besides-" Klaus' smile turned mischievous as his hand roamed from Elfi's waist down to cup her butt, "-I look forward to having a dozen children running around my feet."

Elfi blushed and slapped his hand away but she was smiling, reassured.

* * *

**Lima, Ohio, April of 1938**

After everything they had been through, getting through Ellis Island proved uneventful. They spent a week in New York City until the Schulmeyer's relatives arrived to drive them back to Lima, Ohio.

The first stop in Lima was to the little donut shop owned by the Karofskys. Zarya stared at the store not sure what to make of it. Like the tailor shop in Berlin, the two story brick building had the store on the lower level and living quarters above. While they were standing outside, the door opened and Iakov stepped out. He froze when he saw them.

"…zarya?…"

Iakov ran to his sister and pulled her into a tight hug, smothering her with kisses and tears. With one hand, Iakov opened the door and yelled inside. A moment later, Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky came out. Zarya's mother pulled her from Iakov's arms into her own. Iakov hugged them both.

Only Mr. Karofsky approached Klaus.

"Did Nikolai suffer?" He asked softly.

"No."

"Were you with him when he died?"

"Yes."

"Good." Mr. Karofsky nodded to himself. "It is good he was not alone." He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. "Thank you for returning my daughter to me."

Klaus watched Nikolai's father turn back to his family, put his arms across their shoulders and gather them inside. His throat tightened with emotion. Zarya was safe with her family. He had kept his last promise to Nikolai.

Klaus walked back down the sidewalk to the car where Elfi was watching from the window. It was time to set the past aside and work on their future together.

* * *

**English for Non-Native Speakers Class, Lima, Ohio, 1938**

"See Dick. See Dick run. Run, Dick, run." Klaus huffed impatiently as he struggled through the mind numbingly repetitive reading exercise. "See Jane. See Jane run. Run, Jane, run." Klaus rolled his eyes. "See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run." Klaus made a face and reverted to German. "I should very much like to see Dick, Jane and Spot run…preferably onto the autobahn so I will not have to deal with them any longer."

Moses Puckerman snickered and even Zarya's lips twitched in amusement.

"Klaus, English only, please." Mr. Bill Schuester gently reprimanded the frustrated German. He walked to the chalkboard and started writing a list of words. When he finished he turned and tapped the board. "These are your words for Friday. Write them down. I want you to be able to spell them, pronounce them and explain what they mean."

A groan went up from the class as they opened their notebooks and began copying the words. Klaus looked at the chalkboard hopelessly. They were all words he had difficulty with. He was fluent in two languages but English confused him. There were words like "one" that had a "w" sound but wasn't spelled with a "w" or "enough" with an "f" sound but no "f".

Klaus sighed and began writing the words down. He would have to ask for Elfi's help again.

* * *

**Mercy Central Hospital, Lima, Ohio 1956**

Klaus watched the red faced, flailing infant in the Nursery Unit of Mercy Central Hospital with a mixture of wonder and panic. It still didn't seem possible that he and Elfi had a son. Klaus smiled to himself. Elfi, who had gone through a long, difficult labor, would be quick to disagree.

A son.

Bertram Nikolai Hummel.

Klaus blinked back tears. Elfi had suggested Nikolai as the middle name. Klaus chuckled. Not suggested, insisted.

"Klaus?"

A quiet voice with a Russian accent interrupted his thoughts. Klaus turned, immediately recognizing the hazel eyes and easy grin. He was glad to see Nikolai's older brother looking well.

"Iakov."

Iakov joined Klaus at the nursery window.

"Which one is yours?"

Klaus pointed to his son, who chose that moment to let out a pitiful wail.

"And yours?" Klaus asked Iakov politely.

Iakov choked back a laugh, eyes wide and shook his head emphatically.

"Not mine!" He searched the nursery room. "Zarya's. There, those two. Paul and Peter."

"Twin boys." Klaus felt a familiar ache in his heart.

"Twins run in our family."

"Nikolai would have been very pleased." Klaus said softly.

Iakov was surprised by Klaus' words. "Is that so? We…we never spoke of such things."

"We did. He very much wanted to have twin sons." Klaus fell silent, remembering his last hours with Nikolai in a Sachsenhausen warehouse almost twenty years ago. He shook his head to clear the poignant memory from his mind, remembering instead where he was in the present and who he was with.

Iakov had been civil in his initial greeting to Klaus. But now there was a distinct coolness in his hazel eyes. Nikolai's death was still there, a wedge between their two families, and Klaus wondered if they would ever be able to reconcile. He liked Iakov. He admired Zarya. And, perhaps selfishly, there were times he wanted to share the loss he still felt with the other people who had lost Nikolai.

Iakov stepped away from Klaus, turning to go back to his sister's room.

"I hope Zarya is well." Klaus offered tentatively.

Iakov hesitated. "She is."

He walked away without asking about Elfi or offering his congratulations.

* * *

**Naturalization Ceremony, U.S. District Court, Cleveland, Ohio, July 4th, 1964**

Klaus had one arm around Elfi's shoulders as they raised their hands to take the oath of allegiance. Klaus glanced down at down at their two daughters clinging to Elfi's waist. Bertram had taken the two flags they had been given and was marching up and down the aisle waving them. All too soon, the ceremony was over. At 50, Klaus and Elfi Hummel became U.S. citizens.

* * *

**Principal's Office, Wendell Wilkie Middle School, Lima, Ohio, 1968**

Moses Puckerman and his son Aaron, who was holding a baggie of ice to his black eye, sat sullenly across from Klaus and Bert. Klaus met Aaron's glare and arched his eyebrow in disapproval. This was not the first time Klaus had been called in to meet with the principal because of an altercation between Aaron and Bertram.

"I am quite certain my son did not hit another child without provocation."

"I think we can all agree that harmless name calling shouldn't be met with violence, Mr. Hummel."

Klaus eyed the principal coolly. "I have yet to hear what name my son was called."

Aaron slouched in his seat, not meeting Klaus' eyes.

"I hardly think that's relevant." Moses Puckerman scoffed. "Your son is a bully, Klaus. I have seen his kind before when Hitler was in power."

Klaus' jaw tightened. "Are you calling my son a Nazi?"

"Come now, Klaus-" Moses' tone was patronizing, enjoying the fact that he was getting under Klaus' skin. "-it has been thirty years. I am certain there are no Nazis lurking about. Certainly not in Lima, Ohio."

"Bertram."

Bert knew that tone of his father's voice. He uncrossed his arms, sat up and answered quietly.

"He said I had a faggy name."

Klaus saw Aaron smirk and roll his eyes.

"May I have word with my son, please?"

"Of course." The principal quickly rose and escorted Moses Puckerman and his son into the outer reception area. Klaus waited until he was sure they would not be overheard before turning to Bert.

"This word-faggy-what does it mean?"

"Nothing."

"Bertram Nikolai Hummel, you will answer me-right now!"

Bert picked at the sleeve of his shirt, embarrassed. "It's a boy who likes other boys."

"I see." Klaus considered. "Do you?"

Bert sighed impatiently. "Do I what, Dad?"

"Do you like this boy? Are you…faggy?" Klaus asked innocently, unprepared for his son's explosive reaction.

"God, Dad, no!"

Bert jumped up ready to storm out but Klaus grabbed his arm. Bert yanked free. He turned, red-faced and furious, finally losing his temper and yelling at his father.

"I'd rather be dead than a fag!"

Bert shoved past his dad and ran out, never knowing how deeply his words had hurt Klaus.

* * *

Elfi, ever practical and not one to tolerate the uncomfortable silence at dinner that night, approached the subject again.

"It is not only his name that they tease him about."

"Oh?" Klaus glanced at Bert, who still had not spoken to him since his earlier outburst.

"Instead of Elfi, they say he has an elephant for a mother."

Klaus chewed his food slowly, silently furious to learn that his family was being mocked.

"I see."

"Instead of Klaus, they say Santa Klaus."

"You could do worse than having Santa Klaus for a father." Klaus commented dryly towards Bert, trying to engage him.

Bert concentrated on shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer.

"I suppose you have already considered a new name for yourself?"

Bert looked up hopefully. Elfi nodded encouragingly for him to speak up.

"Evel."

Klaus' fork clattered to his plate and he shot Elfi a look of alarm. "Evil?"

"E-v-e-l." Bert continued, trying to win his parents over to the idea of changing his name. "Like the motorcycle rider we saw on t.v. The one that jumped those hotel fountains!"

"The one who _almost_ jumped the fountains and crashed?" Klaus said, correcting his son. "No. You are not changing your name to Evel Hummel."

Bert pushed his food around on his plate. "I want to change my last name, too."

Elfi looked over in surprise, this was the first she had heard of her son wanting a new last name, too.

Klaus' lips thinned in displeasure. "Please, tell us, _Evel_, what might your new last name be?"

"Steel."

"Evel Steel." Klaus' lips twitched and then he was laughing.

Bert threw his fork down on his plate and ran out. Elfi chidingly slapped Klaus' shoulder.

"Klaus, really!"

Klaus wiped tears of amusement from his eyes. "Elfi-Evel Steel?" He laughed again. Elfi glared at him coldly. Klaus held his hands up placatingly. "Fine, fine, I will speak to him, yes?"

"See that you do."

* * *

Early the next morning Klaus took Bert down to the tire shop. There was a small pond behind the garage and they often went there to fish from the dock. After they had their poles set, Klaus sat down next to his son.

"So, why do you wish to change your name?"

"You gave me a German name."

"German and Russian, yes."

"But I'm not German or Russian, Dad. I'm American. I want an American name."

"I see. And Evel Steel is an American name?"

Bert blushed. "Mom and I talked last night. I know you named me after your dad." Bert offered a small smile. "I kind of like that."

"I am glad."

"So…I was thinking maybe I could change it to Burt-B-u-r-t-Nicholas Hummel?"

Bert looked up at Klaus hopefully.

"What do you think, Dad?"

Klaus ruffled Bert's hair. "I think it is a good-American-name."

* * *

**Kurt Hummel's Bedroom, Lima, Ohio, 1997**

Three year old Kurt Hummel curled up on his grandfather's lap, head snuggled into Klaus' chest, comforted by the creak of the rocking chair and Klaus reading softly.

"But never tease a weasel. This is very good advice. A weasel will not like it–and teasing isn't nice!"

Kurt turned the page and Klaus continued. When they finished the book, Kurt took it, hopped off Klaus' lap, returned it to his bookshelf and came back with another. Klaus peered over his glasses at his grandson.

"If your father sees you are not yet asleep, we will both be made to stand in the corner."

Kurt pushed the new book into his grandfather's hands.

"Read."

It wasn't a question. Kurt had his hands on his hips, blue eyes looking at Klaus and fully expecting to be obeyed. Klaus chuckled. There was no doubt little Kurt was a Hummel, stubborn through and through. With an indulgent sigh, he held his arm out and Kurt climbed onto his lap again. Klaus opened the book and began reading.

"One fish, two fish."

Kurt excitedly slapped his hand against the brightly colored fish in the book. "Fishy!"

"Red fish, blue fish."

"Fishy, fishy!"

Half an hour later, Burt and Elfi came upstairs to Kurt's bedroom. Both Klaus and Kurt were sound asleep, the Dr. Suess book still open and unfinished on their laps.

"Apparently both of our boys have stayed up past their bedtimes." Elfi whispered.

She walked over to turn down the covers on the bed. Burt took the book and set it aside. As he took Kurt from Klaus' arms, he was struck by how old his father looked. At 83, Klaus still swam regularly, still had his evening walk with Elfi, but a lifetime of laugh and worry lines etched his face now. The strong, sure hands that had taught Burt to change his first tire now seemed drawn and thin.

* * *

**Hospice Unit, Mercy Central Hospital, Lima, Ohio 1997**

Klaus held Elfi's hand, stroking his thumb across her fingers, wondering if she knew he was there. She had been diagnosed with cancer only two months ago. Yet, here she was, in the terminal ward living out her last days either awake and in pain or medicated and sleeping.

"I heard from Moscow today. They said yes. They have finally raised enough money for the installation. It will take a year or two to complete, but it will be done." He brought Elfi's hand to his lips and kissed it, the same affectionate gesture he had shown her for over sixty years. "I could never have done it without you."

Klaus brushed Elfi's hair, taking care to arrange the silver curls just so, the way she preferred. He applied lip balm. Hand cream. The rose scented one, her favorite.

Klaus was at the foot of the bed massaging Elfi's feet when Burt arrived. He paused in the doorway, moved by his dad's devotion to his mom even after all these years. Burt smiled. He looked forward to the years he and Elizabeth had to grow old together like his parents had.

Klaus looked up as Burt walked in and kissed Elfi's cheek.

"She will not be with us much longer."

Burt nodded. "The girls are bringing Aunt Sofia by later. I didn't know if I should bring Kurt or-"

"No. He is young. He should not remember her like this."

Klaus stood to leave. He squeezed Burt's shoulder on his way out. Burt squeezed his hand in return.

Klaus walked down the hall to the chapel, relieved to find it empty. He found a small, half hidden pew in back, sat down and closed his eyes. He whispered softly.

"Please, Kolya, take care of my Elfi."

He laid his head down and wept.

* * *

K**urt Hummel's Bedroom-one week after Elfi's funeral, 1997**

Klaus came upstairs to find Kurt curled up on his bed sobbing uncontrollably. Elizabeth was there, rubbing his back and speaking to him in soft, reassuring tones. Burt stood by the bed, hands shoved in his pockets, watching his wife and son without a clue of what he should be doing. When he looked up, Klaus saw that his eyes were red-rimmed from crying, too.

"Your grandmother left a present for you, Kurt."

"No!" Kurt wailed and balled up deeper against his pillow, shaking his head.

Klaus set up the record player he was carrying on Kurt's dresser. He laid several records down next to it, found the one that he wanted and put it on to play. Elfi's voice, singing "Somewhere Over The Rainbow", filled the room. Kurt's sobs became noisy snuffling. He looked over his shoulder at his grandfather.

Klaus held up the other records so Kurt could see the covers. There were two more Elfi had made. The rest were Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand and Lena Horne. Kurt reached out to his dad. Burt picked him up and carried him over so he could see the records for himself. Kurt reached for the records but Klaus stepped back.

"Remember how your Grandmother Elfi played the records for you?"

Kurt nodded.

"These are yours but your mother or father must play them for you."

Kurt looked at Burt and then at Elizabeth and nodded. He let out an exhausted sigh and dropped his head to Burt's shoulder, humming softly along with grandmother's voice until he fell asleep.

* * *

**Hummel Tires and Lube, Lima, Ohio, 1999**

"You okay, Dad?" Burt eyed his father, concerned.

Klaus pressed a hand to his chest, discomforted by the persistent heartburn that still hadn't responded to the antacids he'd taken. Still, he didn't want his son to worry.

"I think perhaps from now on we should leave the cooking to Elizabeth and the tires to you, yes?"

Klaus smiled, squeezing Burt's shoulder reassuringly.

"Do not worry so. A short walk to the pond for some fresh air and I will be fine. Finish Mrs. Schulmeyer's car. I will be back soon."

Burt watched his father, still not convinced.

"You sure?"

"Yes, get back to work, lazy boy!"

Burt grinned at his father's affectionate dismissal and turned back to his work. Klaus walked into the office to get his coat, pausing long enough to watch his grandson, Kurt, playing with his Power Rangers.

Klaus reached down and brushed Kurt's bangs out of his eyes, lingering a moment so that the touch became an affectionate caress. Kurt beamed at Klaus.

"Red Power Ranger and Green Power Ranger are getting married!"

Klaus' eyes twinkled. "Again?"

Kurt blushed, tapping his low heeled, "sensible" pumps against the bottom rungs of the chair. Klaus kissed the top of Kurt's head.

"I would be very honored if I might be permitted to walk Red Power Ranger down the aisle."

Kurt sighed happily. "I've got a wedding to plan!"

Klaus chuckled. "You do indeed, liebling."

Kurt began humming to himself as he cheerfully planned a rainbow bridal bouquet and matching top hats. Klaus left his grandson alone to play with his toys. He shrugged into his coat and left through the back door of the shop.

Klaus followed the short path that sloped down to the small pond behind Hummel's Tires and Lube. The geese would be return in the summer. For now, a thin layer of ice covered the water.

The path continued around the pond to the other side, a residential area. Klaus spotted a small figure coming towards him from the other direction. The boy appeared to be about 5 or 6, the same age as Klaus' grandson. But where Kurt was slight for his age, this boy was chubby with golden brown hair. Klaus watched, amused by the child's intense focus on using his plastic hockey stick to hit a toy puck along the pond's edge.

Klaus winced at the squeezing sensation in his chest. As he was about to return to the shop, he saw the black plastic puck skitter further out onto the ice. Oblivious to the danger, the young boy ran onto the ice as well. Klaus heard the ice crack, a terrified scream and then frantic splashing. He tore his coat off and dove into the freezing water.

Fortunately, the child's bright red jersey was easy to spot against the ice and water. Klaus, struggling, still managed to swim out, grab the young boy and pull him back safely to solid ground.

"Are you hurt, little one?" Klaus gasped, breathless from the cold and his unexpected swim. He grunted as the tightness in chest intensified. "Well?" Klaus rubbed his hands on the boy's face to warm him. When the boy looked up, Klaus was stunned.

He had Nikolai's eyes.

"David?" A girl's voice came from the other side of the pond.

The little boy looked worried and hurriedly scrambled to his feet.

"David Paulovitch Karofsky! I'm gonna tell Nana Zarya if you don't answer me. Right now!"

Klaus watched as Zarya's grandson ran back the way he came. He paused once, turning around to tentatively wave at Klaus, then ran on until he was out of sight. Klaus was reaching for his coat when the pressure in his chest became unbearable. He collapsed, realizing he had come to his end.

Klaus Hummel closed his eyes, satisfied that with his last breath he had, finally, redeemed himself of Nikolai's death by saving another Karofsky's life.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: The reviews for Chapters 16 and 17 were so touching-thank you! I'm using Dave/David more in this chapter to reflect Kurt's changing view of Karofsky. Hopefully it won't be confusing. **

**Normally I wait until I finish writing a story to recommend other fics. But "The Worst That Could Happen" by LucyToo has received some unfair criticism. If you're not reading it because you think the non-con warning refers to Kurt and Dave's relationship, it doesn't. And Chapter 16 has one of the best smart!Dave/Kurt scenes I've ever read. If you're looking for an incredibly well-written Kurtofsky story, I hope you'll reconsider and give it a chance.  
**

**Warnings: Sex. Racial slur.**

* * *

PART 18

The strong storms kept most of the residents of Lima, Ohio inside Saturday night. By early Sunday morning when the worst of the weather had passed, no one noticed the brightly colored Ram truck parked in front of Hummel Tires and Lube. Inside the truck, Luke lit another cigarette. Zee-Zimmerman-drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest.

"It's been half an hour."

"He'll be here."

"Yeah, well, his lazy black ass better get a move on!"

Luke laughed. "C'mon, Zee, you saw the look on his face Friday night. Karofsky's boy wants the rims. Stupid fucker practically pissed himself he was so excited."

"Yeah…about Karofsky…", Zee's fingers stopped their restless tapping. "Dude's gonna flip his shit when he finds out."

"So? Karofsky gets in our shit, we fuck him up." Luke blew out a stream of smoke. "After tonight-after we prove ourselves-we 're gonna own this fucking town!"

A red Ram 1500 truck pulled up to the garage. Azimio cut his headlights, killed the engine and hopped out.

Luke nudged Zimmerman. "Jungle Jim's here. Turn the camera on."

Luke got out of his truck and, grinning, walked around to meet Azimio.

* * *

Kurt woke slowly, snuggling against the warm body curled up against his back. Karofsky had one leg thrown over Kurt's thigh, his ankle hooked over Kurt's feet and his arms wrapped around the countertenor's waist.

Kurt had always thought his first time having sex would be more Moulin Rouge than Motel 6. A romantic dance with the man of his dreams singing softly in his ear. An elegant dinner while exchanging shy, flirty looks with his soon to be lover. A candlelit bedroom. Whispered endearments and light caresses.

"…_so fucking beautiful…"_

Kurt smiled sleepily to himself. Hardly the sweet nothings he had always imagined hearing. Still, he would never forget the honest, admiring look in David's eyes right before he-Kurt blushed, remembering. The reality had been so much better than some Disneyesque fantasy. Kurt giggled. He had never expected sex to be…fun.

He turned over so he was facing Karofsky. In sleep, David looked surprisingly vulnerable. And yet, he had a rumpled sexiness that made Kurt's breath catch. David murmured in his sleep. Kurt kissed him lightly on the lips. The football jock grunted and slid a hand down to squeeze Kurt's ass, startling the young singer. Kurt froze. He wasn't used to being-groped. Just as Kurt was debating whether or not to move Karofsky's hand, David burrowed his face into Kurt's neck and started nuzzling his skin. He shifted his hips, and suddenly Karofsky's erection was pressing hard against Kurt's inner thigh.

"_Brittany, what do boys taste like?" _

Kurt really wished his mind hadn't chosen this moment to remember that question. He licked his lips, nervous. Karofsky had seemed to enjoy himself last night when he had taken Kurt into his mouth. Uncertain, Kurt reached down to touch Karofsky. As soon as he palmed the other boy, David bucked against his hand. Kurt tentatively wrapped his fingers around Karofsky's shaft and gave an experimental squeeze. David groaned and jerked harder against Kurt's hand.

Kurt pulled away. Karofsky gave a low, frustrated growl and rolled onto his back. Kurt trailed his fingers down Karofsky's bare skin until he reached the ties to his sweatpants. He tugged once. Nothing. Silently, Kurt scolded himself. Now who was being a tease? He took a deep breath and tugged again, pulling the ties loose. Kurt frowned. He wasn't sure he could pull the sweats down without waking Karofsky. And he really didn't want to explain to David that he was just wondering how it would feel to give him a blow job but he wasn't ready to commit to the actual act yet. Kurt rolled his eyes. God, how lame-how embarrassing-that would be.

Karofsky kept his breathing light and steady as if he were still asleep. Whatever Kurt was up to, he didn't want to scare him off. Still, if he didn't make a move soon, Karofsky was going to take matters into his own hands, roll Kurt onto his back and make him come so hard he passed out from pleasure. A smile flickered across his lips. He liked the idea of Kurt, flushed and panting, pinned beneath him.

Kurt, unaware that David had helped by conveniently moving just so while "asleep", managed to get Karofsky's sweatpants and underwear pulled down. He glanced up to make sure Karofsky was still asleep. The other boy remained still, eyes closed. Kurt gripped Karofsky's penis and, after a moment's hesitation, flicked his tongue lightly across the head. Karofsky groaned. Kurt paused, considering. Salty but not bad. He tried again, this time using his tongue to lap short strokes along the slit.

Karofsky groaned again, louder. He took a chance and peeked just enough to see Kurt going down on him. Oh, God, that image. And then feeling those soft, tight lips closing around his dick. Karofsky couldn't help himself. He thrust twice deep into Kurt's mouth before he heard the countertenor gag and felt him pull away.

"…morning…" Karofsky's voice was rough from sleep.

"You're awake!" Kurt squeaked.

"Yeah, a blow job gets me up pretty quickly." Karofsky glanced meaningfully down at his still hard-and still exposed-penis.

Kurt blushed at the double entendre.

"All undressed and nowhere to go." Karofsky continued, hazel eyes twinkling, enjoying Kurt's discomfort at being caught. "Are you finished-" He couldn't resist adding, "-or do you want some more sausage for breakfast?"

Kurt made a face of disgust. "Now you're just being crude!"

Karofsky pulled up his clothes and retied his sweatpants. "Yeah, I was. Sorry."

"I just wondered…I mean, you seemed to really like it…when you…" Kurt's voice trailed off. Embarrassed, he rolled onto his side. He felt Karofsky settle against his back again. David kissed his neck. "What were you doing to my feet last night?"

"You liked it?" Karofsky sounded pleased with himself.

"It was-amazing."

"Somethin' I read about." Karofsky nipped Kurt's ear, chuckling when he squirmed away. "There's other stuff we could try. If you want to."

"Like what?"

Karofsky slid a hand between Kurt's legs.

"I'm not ready for that!" Kurt felt a flutter of panic.

"I know, I know." Karofsky rubbed Kurt's back. "Shh, s'okay, babe." Kurt felt an entirely different flutter at that one word. _Babe._ "I'm not ready for that, either." He nuzzled the back of Kurt's neck. "Somethin' I read about in a pirate history book."

"W-what?"

"Between your thighs."

"You won't-?"

"No!" Karofsky said firmly. He hugged Kurt to his chest, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder. "No." His fingers stroked Kurt's hips as he made small noises, murmuring about how good Kurt felt.

Kurt put his hands over Karofsky's, stilling them. "I trust you." He rolled onto his back then pulled Karofsky in for a kiss. Kurt quickly broke apart making a face. "Ew. I forgot where that mouth has been."

Karofsky didn't look any happier. "Shot of mouthwash wouldn't kill you, either, Hummel."

Kurt raised an indignant eyebrow. "At least I don't have come breath."

"Come breath?" Karofsky looked amused. "Is that right? I'll show you come breath!"

Karofsky planted his arms on either side of Kurt and leaned in as if he were going to kiss him again. Yelping, Kurt ducked under Karofsky's arms and rolled out of bed. Karofsky playfully chased him into the bathroom.

Cornered, Kurt watched helplessly as Karofsky stalked him, secretly thrilled with the possessive, predatory look in those hazel eyes. Kurt's pulse quickened as Karofsky closed the distance. He pressed his body against Kurt's, pinning him fast against the sink while he ducked his head down and fastened his lips in the hollow of Kurt's throat.

Kurt moaned. Karofsky licked and sucked at the soft flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure through Kurt's body. Kurt's shudder encouraged David. He worked his way down to Kurt's shoulder, pulling the t-shirt away to bare Kurt's collarbone. Kurt had one hand on Karofsky's chest, the other bracing himself against the sink. Karofsky sucked hard on a sensitive spot in the curve of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt gasped, eyes widening at the sensation. Quickly, Karofsky darted his tongue over the area, quick, soothing flicks to take away any pain.

"…please…" Kurt sighed, curving his neck to give Karofsky more access.

"Fuck this." Karofsky grabbed the front of Kurt's t-shirt in both hands, yanked hard once and ripped it down the front. Kurt turned away, blushing. Karofsky ran his hands up Kurt's sides and then across his chest, eyes taking in the smooth, pale skin. Kurt glanced at Karofsky out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction at seeing his bare chest. The approving look on Karofsky's face reassured Kurt. Karofsky's palms slid across Kurt's torso. His lips soon followed. Karofsky circled his thumbs around Kurt's taut nipples, watching his reaction as his fingers teased the peaks.

"I'm thinking we should-" Karofsky whispered huskily.

"…what?…" Kurt gasped, dazed.

"-brush our teeth." He pulled back, grinning.

"Brush our teeth?" Kurt repeated, his body still tingling from Karofsky's lips dancing across his skin.

Karofsky grabbed a toothbrush and handed the other one to Kurt.

"Brush. Our. Teeth." He repeated slowly, laughing at the frustrated look on Kurt's face.

* * *

Kurt had to admit he didn't care for the stickiness of the lube on his skin. Before he could complain, David was there, pushing into the tightness between his thighs, each thrust frustratingly close-but not close enough-to Kurt's own hard on.

Kurt whimpered. "…higher…"

Karofsky grunted and shifted position. Kurt wriggled backwards, desperately seeking more friction. A few awkward, fumbled moves later and Karofsky's penis was sliding teasingly under Kurt's as they found a comfortable rhythm. Kurt's head rocked back against Karofsky's shoulder. He bit his lip against the desperate, furtive sounds he was making. Karofsky's hands gripped Kurt's thighs, fingers kneading his skin as he pushed in and out. Kurt's breath quickened. More. He needed to feel more of David's body against his.

"…wait…"

Instantly, Karofsky stopped and pulled back, concerned. "You okay? What's wrong? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Kurt looked over his shoulder, rolled his eyes and then flopped onto his stomach. "You're not the only one who can suggest trying new things."

"Kurt…I might squish you."

Kurt settled the pillows under his chin. "See that you don't."

David repositioned his body over Kurt's, careful to keep his weight braced on his arms as he lowered himself. Kurt shivered with pleasure as Karofsky's bare skin pressed against his. He cried out when David marked the back of his neck. This. This was what Kurt had wanted to experience. The feeling of being protected, dominated, desired.

"…oh…god…hng…don't stop!…"

Karofsky kissed then bit Kurt's nape as he rode him, aroused by the mewling, pleading noises Kurt was making. Kurt gripped Karofsky's forearms. His fingers tightened against the jock's muscles as David drove against him, forcing him into the mattress. Kurt surrendered. He willingly gave himself over to the pure physical power that was Dave Karofsky. Not that he really had a choice given the way his body mindlessly rocked back to meet Karofsky's with every push.

"…fuck…" David whispered, lips brushing Kurt's shoulder. "…so fucking tight…"

"I-I-I'm-" Kurt broke off in a moan.

Karofsky reached underneath them to stroke Kurt's penis. It was enough to send him over the edge. Kurt muffled his cries in the pillow as he bucked against David, thrusting hard against his hand gripping him in front and arching against his hips riding him from behind. Karofsky wrapped Kurt in his arms, shuddering against him as his own orgasm soon followed.

* * *

David let Kurt shower and change first before getting himself cleaned up. When he came out of the bathroom, he was surprised to see Kurt had not only changed clothes and packed but also had breakfast waiting. The food smelled great but David wasn't sure he could afford room service. Kurt saw Karofsky's face and immediately reassured him.

"It's on me. You've paid for everything else. I think the least I can do is buy you breakfast."

"Thanks."

Karofsky sat down and Kurt began uncovering the dishes. Scrambled eggs, omelets, bacon, toast, French toast, juice, fruit, cereal. Karofsky was beginning to think they had cleaned out the kitchen.

"This is a lot of food."

"I wanted to make sure there was something you'd like."

Karofsky blushed. He wasn't used to being fussed over. Kurt hummed happily to himself as he laid out napkins and silverware for each of them. He looked at David expectantly.

"So, do you see anything in particular you'd like to eat?"

Karofsky smirked as he gave Kurt a sexy wink. "Do you?"

Kurt blushed then quickly helped himself to a fruit and yogurt parfait. Karofsky settled for an omelet, bacon and juice.

"I can't wait to tell Mercedes about this weekend!"

Karofsky froze. "What?"

"I had sex-" Kurt glanced shyly at David, "-amazing sex-for the first time in my life. I have to tell someone!"

Karofsky stabbed at his omelet. "I'm not ready to tell anyone."

"You said you're in love with me."

"I know what I said."

"Then I don't see what the problem is."

"I just-I think we both need to think about things."

"What things?"

Karofsky looked up. "You haven't said you love me, Kurt."

"I can't." Kurt blurted out unexpectedly, surprising himself more than Karofsky.

Dave nodded. "I know."

"You've had months to think about…us. Last night was the first time-I never thought of you as-I mean-." Kurt stammered. He blinked quickly, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't how the morning after was supposed to be. "I can't." He repeated helplessly.

Karofsky shrugged. "Like the song says, you can't make your heart feel something it won't."

"I want to." Kurt said softly, not sure if Karofsky heard him.

David's eyes were soft with understanding. He hated how miserable Kurt looked. He walked over and caressed Kurt's cheek as he leaned in for a gentle, reassuring kiss. "I know."

Karofsky walked over to the dresser to get his keys and wallet. He left a tip on the nightstand for the housekeeper. Kurt still sat at the room service cart looking dejected.

"Hummel."

Kurt looked up, reflexively catching the keys Karofsky threw his way.

"Wanna drive?"

Kurt's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Dave grinned, moved by the way Kurt was looking at him. He would do anything to keep those blue eyes shining at him the way they were in this moment. "Yeah, really."

* * *

When Burt Hummel pulled up to Hummel Tires and Lube, the shop was already surrounded by yellow police tape. Two police cars, an ambulance and Det. Metz were already on the scene. Burt parked across the street. Even from there, he could see the warning boldly spray painted across the garage doors.

_McSwishy is next. _


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: A very special thank you to Starkidmack for her help! **

"**Moy zaichik" is a Russian endearment meaning "my bunny". Dave intentionally teases Kurt by telling him it means something else.**

**A recording officer is a police officer assigned to keep a log of who enters and exits a crime scene.**

"**Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" sung by the Chipettes (videos on youtube).**

"**Puckered Nuts" was inspired by "puckernuts" from the comic book Elfquest by Warp Graphics (Wendy and Richard Pini).**

**Warnings: Violence. Language (little late with that one) and one anti-Christian comment by Kurt. **

* * *

PART 19

"Born to be wiiiiiiiiild!"

"Kurt."

"Hm?"

"We're still in the parking lot."

"So?" The fashionista buckled his seatbelt, slid on sunglasses and playfully looked over at Dave. "Do I look like a bad boy?"

Karofsky smirked. "Hickeys kinda ruin the whole bad ass vibe, babe."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "What?" He quickly checked himself in the rearview mirror. His hand flew to the obvious love mark in the hollow of his throat. Karofsky doubled over with laughter. "This is not funny, Karofsky!"

Dave flashed a rare grin. "It's absofuckinglutely hysterical-you should see yourself!"

Kurt turned the mirror to David. "Maybe you should see yourself."

Karofsky checked the mirror and immediately his laughter died. "Oh, crap…" He carefully inspected the glaring hickey on his shoulder. Kurt snickered. Karofsky shot him a deadly look. "Shut up!" Kurt giggled louder. "It's not funny!"

"Not what you were saying a moment ago."

Kurt smiled to himself as he grabbed his compact and flawlessly covered the mark with concealer and powder. Dave shot him a look as he was putting his compact away.

"What-I don't get any?" He teased.

"Don't be ridiculous." Kurt adjusted his seatbelt. "That concealer is for a fair complexion like mine. You're more of a medium bisque." Kurt gave him a mischievous, sidelong glance. "Really, David, if you're going to be gay you have to know which makeup flatters your skin tone."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." Karofsky tugged his coat closer to his neck.

Kurt lovingly patted the dashboard. "Hello, Gruff, I'm Kurt. I'll be your driver today." He started the car, revving the engine a little. "That's it, baby, purr for daddy." Kurt pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and, following Dave's directions, was soon on the highway and headed for home.

* * *

An hour later, after Kurt grew tired of playing punch buggy and Dave grew tired of hearing Broadway showstoppers, both boys agreed to have Dave read from Nikolai's journal. He started with his great-uncle's early entries.

_The miller's son kissed me. Another boy pressed his lips to mine. It was everything that Iakov told me a kiss would be. My heart races as though I will never be able to breathe again and yet I could not be happier. Or sadder. Why can I not feel this way when I kiss the miller's daughter? Such joy. Such heartbreak. My life has begun and ended in the same moment._

David paused, feeling an intense connection with Nikolai and his struggle as a 16 year old boy realizing he was gay. He read another entry.

_I want to be normal. Is it so much to ask? I want to be free of this fear which grips me so fiercely I cannot even breathe. With every dawn I wake, trembling, and wonder if this will be the day I am discovered. With every dusk, I weep, relieved that I have hidden the truth from my family yet again._

Kurt heard the waver in Dave's voice and glanced over.

"David?"

"M'okay."

_Frau Klein knows. Even now she is in the kitchen speaking with my mother. I do not doubt that I will be dismissed from my position at the bakery. I do not doubt that I will be asked to leave my father's house. I am about to lose everything I know and everyone I love._

Kurt frowned. "But he was still at the bakery when he met Klaus."

"I know." Dave nodded, just as puzzled as Kurt.

My mother, who has never in my life raised a hand to me, struck me. Frau Klein slapped her just as hard on my behalf. I could not have loved the sharp tongued German baker more than I did in that moment.

"Frau Klein stood up for him.", Kurt said, pleased by the thought of Nikolai having someone on his side.

_Frau Klein has left. Mother sent me to my room without dinner. She said she will discuss what is to become of me with Father when he comes home._

_Zarya brought me a baked apple. She said it was the last one and she had to do something with it before it went bad. She is a good sister…and a terrible liar. She knows very well that is my favorite dessert._

_Iakov hugged me and told me all would be well. But he does not know. He has been downstairs minding the shop and knows only that Mother and Frau Klein were arguing about me._

"…fuck…" Dave rubbed a hand over his eyes, scrubbing away tears as he quietly read the next few lines in Russian before translating them.

_"This is your home for as long as you will have it be so." From this day until my last, I will never forget my father's words tonight. He has reassured me that I am his son and he loves me. It is a bond as certain and unchangeable as the sun rising tomorrow._

Karofsky slammed the journal closed, startling Kurt.

"Well-", Kurt tried to lighten the mood, "-I don't know about you but I could use some more coffee. Mind if we stop?"

"Yeah, sure-" Dave's voice was rough with emotion. "-I need to take a piss anyway. You wanna call your dad?"

Kurt checked his phone for the time and shook his head. "There was a 'Deadliest Catch' marathon on last night. He's probably still asleep on the couch." Kurt spotted a fast food restaurant at the next exit. He pulled off the interstate and quickly found an empty parking space. They walked inside. "What do you want?"

"I'll get it."

Kurt put his hand on his hip and arched an eyebrow. It was his trademark "don't argue with me" pose. "David Paulovitch Karofsky, if I have to ask you again, you'll be getting apple fries and a diet Coke."

Dave blushed, touched that Kurt seemed to genuinely want to do things for him.

"Regular Coke." Kurt nodded and started to turn away. "And a double cheeseburger." Kurt turned back to face Dave. "And fries.", he added, embarrassed by the way Kurt was just-looking-at him. "Look, forget it. A Coke's fine."

"It isn't that, it's just-. We ate breakfast a few hours ago. Have you been hungry all this time?"

"No." Karofsky answered too quickly. "Maybe a little.", he finally admittedly meekly. He nudged Kurt's shoulder as he lowered his voice. "Gotta keep my energy up if you want me to stay on top."

Kurt sputtered, a noise somewhere between choking and laughing at Karofsky's double entendre. Dave grinned. Suddenly he wasn't the only one blushing. Kurt leaned in as he whispered back. "Well, we definitely want to keep you on top…at least until it's my turn."

He walked away to order their food, leaving Dave wondering how it would feel having Kurt on top next time. And a smug grin on his face when he realized the odds of there being a next time were looking pretty good.

* * *

When Karofsky came out of the restroom, Kurt already had their order and had gotten a table by the windows. Dave glanced at his food, surprised to see it was exactly what he had asked for. He had half-expected Kurt to change it to grilled chicken or a salad or some other healthy shit. He smiled. He appreciated the fact that Kurt was willing to accept him as he was.

Dave unwrapped his burger. He made a little puddle of ketchup next to it before dumping the fries on the wrapper, too. He glanced at the food on his tray and then over to Kurt's Diet Coke.

"Want some?"

Kurt eyed the French fries dubiously. "Well…maybe just one."

He took exactly one fry, dabbed it in ketchup and nibbled on it.

Several minutes later, as Dave was finishing his sandwich, he watched Kurt take another fry. An amused smile played across his lips and his hazel green eyes sparkled with humor.

"Hungry?"

"Not really, why?"

"You've obliterated like half of my fries, Hummel."

Kurt's mouth fell open slightly. "I did not!"

Laughing, Dave showed Kurt the diminished pile of French fries. Kurt's eyes widened, mortified.

"Oh. My. God. I won't be able to wear skinny jeans for a month!

His eyes narrowed as he focused accusingly on Dave.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

Dave gave him a lopsided grin. "It was cute."

"Me stuffing my face with food is cute?"

"What? Chipmunks stuff their faces with food. And they're freaking adorable."

"I am not a chipmunk!"

"Moy zaichik." There was an undercurrent of affection in Dave's voice.

"What does that mean?"

"Doesn't really translate in English."

"Try anyway."

"Chipmunk cheeks."

Kurt's hands flew to his face, feeling for any excessive fullness that would detract from his high cheekbones. Dave's eyes softened when he realized he was taking the joke too far. He caught Kurt's gaze and held it.

"It was cute." Dave said sincerely. "You sneaking food from my tray. It's…it's the kind of thing couples do."

Kurt's pulse fluttered.

"Are we a couple, Mishka?"

He hesitated only a heartbeat before using Zarya's pet name for Dave, wondering if he would mind. But Dave was moved by Kurt's spontaneous gesture of intimacy. He reached for Kurt's hand under the table and took it in his, tracing little circles along Kurt's skin that left goosebumps in their wake.

"Moy zaichik." This time the spark of desire in Dave's eyes made Kurt's breath catch as blood rushed to his cheeks…and lower.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't call me that ridiculous name."

Smiling, he reached over and took another French fry.

* * *

Det. Metz met Burt Hummel at the police tape, gave Burt's name to the recording officer then let him into the crime scene. They walked past Azimio's Ram.

"Recognize the truck?"

"No."

The detective walked around to where the paramedics were treating Azimio.

"What about him?"

Burt glanced quickly at the teenager. Azimio was cussing and flinching as the medics tried to assess his injuries. From what Burt could see, he had a bad gash on his leg, a swollen lip and eye and what appeared to be a burn on his back.

"I'm not sure."

Det. Metz walked Burt around to another angle.

"How about now?"

Burt nodded. "Yeah, Azimio, he's one of the McKinley football players."

"Any reason he'd be at your shop last night?"

"No."

Det. Metz continued to jot down notes as he spoke to Burt. He pointed to the security cameras on the building.

"Those work?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they record to a computer inside. I can burn the video to a disc for you."

"Can you do that now?"

Burt nodded. He started to take Det. Metz to his office but stopped as they were passing the McSwishy graffiti. "I don't want my kid to see this."

"We'll be done in about an hour."

"Kurt's out of town."

"Where?"

"Cleveland."

"Until when?"

Burt took of his baseball cap, nervously smoothed a palm over his head and pulled his cap back on.

"He's supposed to come back today."

Det. Metz considered. "How many people know he's there?"

"Nobody really."

"He's probably safer if he stays there. What's his address? I'll have Cleveland P.D. check on him."

"I'll have to call and get it."

* * *

The last hour had passed quickly now that Kurt and Dave were almost home. When Dave's phone rang, he wasn't all that surprised to see Burt Hummel's number on his caller i.d. He glanced over at Kurt.

"It's your dad, Hummel. Told you to call him. Shit, he's probably gonna chew my ass for not having you home already."

"Tell him you were making a man out of me."

"Yeah, that won't make him kill me any faster."

Dave answered his phone, laughing at the face Kurt was making. "Hey, it's Dave." He grew quiet as Burt quickly explained the situation. "Yeah, he's here. He's safe."

Kurt gave Dave a questioning look but Dave shook his head.

"About six blocks from your house." Dave paled. He covered his phone and hissed at Kurt. "Pull over!"

Kurt immediately pulled to the curb and put the car in park. He waited , impatiently, overhearing only Dave's side of the conversation with his dad.

"I'll take care of it." Dave hung up.

"What's going on?"

"The guys that called you McSwishy?"

Kurt tensed. "How do you know about that?"

"I played pool with them a few times. They jumped Azimio last night. Your dad thinks they're after you now. Get in back."

"But-"

"Just for a second."

Kurt nodded as he unfastened his seatbelt and squeezed between the bucket seats to climb into the back. Karofsky unbuckled his own seatbelt . He moved over into the driver's seat, slid it back and buckled himself in again. He glanced over his shoulder at Kurt and nodded. Kurt slid into the passenger seat. He adjusted the seatbelt to fit his body. Karofsky reached over and yanked on the buckle, checking for himself that it was secure.

"Lock your door."

Dave adjusted the rearview mirror, then froze when he saw the bright red and orange Ram coming up fast behind them.

"Sonofa-!"

Kurt yelped, gripping the armrest as Dave suddenly threw the car in reverse and backed into a nearby alley. Dave's lips pressed together in a thin line. He gripped the wheel with white knuckled intensity. And yet, in spite of his fear, there was a sureness to his driving as he deftly backed Gruff further up the alley.

When he reached the mouth of the alley, he backed out sharply to the left, stopped, then threw it in drive and headed towards Hummel Tires and Lube. He glanced over and saw a blur of color as the Ram passed the far end of the alley on his right. Good. Maybe they hadn't seen Gruff.

Minutes later, he heard Kurt's sharp gasp and followed his gaze. The Ram had circled behind them and was now one street over on the left shadowing them. Dave lost sight of them.

"Fuck, where are they? Kurt?"

Kurt shook his head, he had lost the truck, too.

Dave checked his mirror wondering if Luke and Zee would come up behind them again.

"David!" Kurt grabbed Karofsky's arm as the Dodge Ram appeared suddenly on a cross street, racing to intercept Gruff. Karofsky sped up, hoping to beat them.

The Ram ran the light, turning sharply, tires squealing in protest as Luke came alongside The Goat. Zee leaned out of the passenger side window with a loud, excited whoop. He yelled something to Luke. A second later, the Ram swerved into Karofsky's lane, scraping Gruff's side.

Zimmerman leaned out farther. With one hand braced inside the truck for balance, he reached over and tried to grab the steering wheel from Karofsky. Dave knocked him away and rolled the window up.

"Hey, Karofsky, you McSwishy's bitch now?"

Laughing, Zee made loud kissing noises at them.

The Ram scraped harder against Gruff's side but Dave was easily strong enough to keep the GTO from spinning out.

"I have an idea."

"Make it a good one, Hummel."

"Slam on your brakes, they'll go right by us."

"Jesus fucking H.-if this doesn't kill us your dad will!"

Dave flicked his tongue nervously over his lips before punching the brake as hard as he could and at the same time turning hard to the left. Gruff skidded sharply, tipping dangerously over onto two wheels before dropping back down. Karofsky didn't waste a second. As soon as all four wheels hit the pavement, he sped down the cross streets until he hit a main street that would quickly get them to the garage. He turned left onto the one way street and matched his speed to the signals until he was in sync with all green lights.

"You okay?"

Kurt, pale, offered a wan smile. "It worked!"

Dave laughed, still in disbelief. "Yeah, it worked." He gave Kurt an admiring glance.

"Where the fuck did you come up with a move like that anyway?"

"'Top Gun'." Kurt met Dave's look of surprise with a shrug. "I was on punishment for exceeding my Visa limit. Dad said I could choose between 'Top Gun' and 'Vanilla Sky'."

"'Vanilla Sky'? Wow, cruel and unusual punishment."

"Oh, don't worry, I exacted my revenge. I insisted on a Moulin Rouge theme for my Sweet Sixteen birthday party. Complete with karaoke. And I made Dad sing."

"You. Are. Evil."

"Piss me off, pay the consequences."

* * *

Kurt called his dad to let him know they were pulling up outside. Dave parked across the street and they walked over to meet Burt and Det. Metz at the yellow crime scene tape. Det. Metz gave their names to the recording officer. As soon as they were allowed inside the tape, Burt grabbed Kurt in a bear hug.

"They chased us."

Burt shot Karofsky a look, instantly on guard.

"When?"

"Just now."

"Where?" Det. Metz asked before Burt could question Dave further.

Dave filled in the details as Det. Metz walked all of them back to Burt's office. Immediately, Det. Metz got on the radio and requested squad cars in the area Dave had described. Burt kept one arm around Kurt's shoulders, keeping him close.

The four of them crowded around Burt's computer surveillance system.

"This isn't gonna be easy to watch." Det. Metz warned the boys. "But if you can identify anyone, it would be a big help."

Karofsky nodded, moving a little to the side so Kurt could see the screen, too. Burt started the video. Luke and Zee pulled up in their truck.

"It's the same truck that pulled into the garage. I recognize the redhead." Kurt said quickly.

"The redhead is Luke. The blonde is Zimmerman. He goes by Zee." Dave added quietly.

"You know their full names?"

Dave shook his head. "They hang out at Scratch."

"The pool hall?"

"Yeah."

Burt fast forwarded through the half hour or so that Luke and Zee were waiting in their truck. A red truck pulled up and Azimio got out. Det. Metz reached over to pause the video.

"You know who that is?"

"Az."

"Azimio?" The detective clarified.

"Yeah."

"Any idea what he was doing here last night?"

Dave flashed Kurt a guilty look before answering Det. Metz's question.

"I don't know why they met up here, but Azimio was gonna buy Luke's rims. I…I was supposed to come with him."

The detective studied Karofsky's nervous demeanor.

"Did you set him up?"

"No!" Kurt answered for Dave. Burt tightened his grip on Kurt's shoulders.

"We got caught in the storms."

"So you stayed in Cleveland?" Det. Metz verified.

Dave nodded.

The detective restarted the video. They watched in silence as Luke and Zimmerman approached and then, without warning, viciously attacked. The beating lasted almost fifteen minutes. Azimio was down. Luke and Zee had his money. It should have been over.

Karofsky's jaw tightened as he watched them go to their truck and then come back. Two more guys he didn't recognize joined them. Again, Det. Metz paused the video.

"Recognize these two?"

Kurt and Dave both shook their heads. The video resumed.

The two unidentified males held Azimio down while Zimmerman burned something into his back and even then-even as Az was screaming in pain-it still wasn't over. Karofsky fisted his hands. On the video, Luke pulled out a knife. He leaned over, bared Azimio's leg and deliberately cut across the back of his ankle.

"…fuckers…"

Karofsky stormed out of Burt's office, slamming the back door on his way out of the garage. Kurt followed him down the familiar path and out onto the short boat dock. Kurt touched Dave's back, feeling the tension coiled and ready to explode.

"Talk to me."

"They cut his Achilles tendon. They hobbled him." Karofsky angrily skipped a stone across the water. "It's what people used to do to slaves to keep them from running away."

They stood there for several moments, Kurt's hand warm and calming as he rubbed Dave's back, easing his anger.

"I almost drowned here." Karofsky skipped another stone across the water.

"What happened?" Kurt asked, understanding that Dave needed to talk about something other than Azimio's attack at the moment.

"Chased a hockey puck out on the ice. Fell through." Dave laughed quietly. "This old guy-swear to God he must have been like a hundred-pulled me out."

Kurt stilled.

"I think he had a speech problem or something."

"Or a German accent?"

Karofsky blinked at Kurt in surprise as he thought back to that moment.

"Huh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess it could've been an accent."

"My grandfather died here."

"Klaus?"

Kurt nodded.

"Heart attack. But when we found him, his coat was on the ground next to him. His clothes were soaking wet."

Dave felt his throat tighten with emotion. He shook his head even as the realization began to dawn on him. "…no…" Karofsky licked his suddenly dry lips. "You got a photo?"

Kurt nodded. He opened his messenger bag and quickly pulled out a photo of Klaus and Elfi with Kurt on his birthday. Dave took one look and felt sick.

"I hated him…and all this time…he gave his life to save mine."

"I'm glad." Kurt murmured quietly. "I'm glad my grandfather died the way he lived. Trying to do the right thing."

* * *

Early Monday morning, Kurt and Dave dropped Gruff off at a body shop Burt had recommended before going on to school. Kurt pulled into the McKinley High student lot, parked and turned off the engine.

As if on cue, Karofsky's phone rang. Three high pitched, female chipmunk voices started singing "Single Ladies". Kurt's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"Like my new ringtone?" Dave grinned, loving Kurt's reaction.

"Not. Particularly."

"There's a youtube video, too."

"Fabulous."

"Doing my own little thing." Dave playfully sang along with the chirpy cartoon voices.

"Oh, my God!" Kurt grabbed the phone, quickly answering it just to get the annoying ringtone to stop. "Hello?" He listened for a moment. "When? All four of them? Yes. Yes, he's here, I'll tell him."

Kurt ended the call and handed the phone back to Dave.

"That was Det. Metz. He just arrested Luke, Zimmerman and the other two." Kurt visibly relaxed. "He wants us to come in this week and give formal statements so he can file charges." He smiled at Dave. "It's over."

Dave gave Kurt's hand a quick squeeze before they got out and started walking up to the school. When they arrived at the main entrance, they were surprised to see Dave's sponsor waiting for them.

"David."

Karofsky shifted his body slightly and Kurt had the impression that he had just moved protectively in front of him.

"Thought you were out of town."

"Change of plans." The sponsor looked concerned. "Your mother called me. She said there was -an incident-this weekend at your sister's restaurant. And then when I saw I had missed your calls, well, naturally I was concerned." The sponsor squeezed Dave's shoulder. "We should talk."

Karofsky pulled away. "I'm good."

"David."

Kurt moved from behind Dave to stand by his side. The sponsor frowned, obviously displeased by Kurt's presence.

"When David says he's good-" Kurt smirked as he adjusted his scarf just enough to show off the love mark on his throat, "-trust me, he really is."

The sponsor's face reddened. "Setbacks are to be expected, of course."

"Setback?" Kurt scoffed, not bothering to hide his derisive tone. "I'd say he's made excellent progress." He gave the sponsor a mocking look. "Gays, 1. Dead guy on a cross, 0. Rainbows and rhinestones for the win!"

The sponsor backhanded Kurt, knocking him to the ground. With a growl, Karofsky attacked. Kurt was shocked at how quickly Dave slammed his sponsor into the wall and, with his forearm pressing across his throat, pinned him there.

"Don't you _ever_ touch him!"

"Karofsky!" Beiste's voice bellowed as she ran up and freed the sponsor from Karofsky's hold.

"David was protecting me, Coach." Kurt spoke up quickly, adjusting his scarf before allowing Dave to help him to his feet.

"Outrageous!" The sponsor was livid.

Coach Beiste noted the red handprint on Kurt's cheek. "I'm listening, Kurt."

"This man attacked me. David intervened." Kurt pulled out his compact to check his face. "You can see the mark he left."

"I see it." Beiste stepped in front of Dave and Kurt, blocking the sponsor from reaching either of them. "Karofsky, take Hummel to the nurse. If he's hurt, let me know so I can call his dad." She turned back, arms crossed, to the sponsor. "I'll take care of this."

"Thanks, Coach."

"And, Karofsky?"

"Yeah, Coach?"

"Nice interception. See if you can remember it when you're on the field."

* * *

As they passed the boys' locker room, Karofsky grabbed Kurt's elbow and jerked him inside. He checked the room to make sure they were alone before confronting Kurt.

"What the hell, Hummel?"

"What?"

Karofsky yanked Kurt's scarf off his neck.

"This!"

He gestured at Kurt's hickey. Kurt grabbed his scarf back and, checking his reflection in the mirror, draped it around his neck, careful to cover the bruise completely. He gave Karofsky a dismissive shrug.

"I was in a hurry this morning."

"Bull!" Karofsky loomed over Kurt, face flushed in anger. "You wanted people to notice. You wanted Mercedes to notice!" Karofsky shoved Kurt, not full force, but hard enough to force the countertenor to take a step back. "Because you knew she would figure out what happened and who it happened with!"

Kurt lifted his chin defiantly. "What if I did?"

He tensed, expecting Karofsky to yell or throw something or punch a locker. Instead, David backed off, shoulders slumping as if all of the fight had gone out of him.

"You're not even gonna try to deny it?" Kurt hadn't expected the incredulous, hurt look on Dave's face. "I trusted you." He made a noise like a wounded animal, fist flying out suddenly to smash into the nearest locker. "Why the fuck do you keep pushing me?"

"Because-" Kurt cleared his throat and started again. "-because I can't love someone who won't fight for what he wants." He took a shuddering breath before continuing, knowing he risked losing David. "I can't love someone who won't fight to win me. I want-no, I deserve-to be courted."

Expectation hung in the air between them as if this was the moment for promises to be made or hearts to be broken.

"Maybe I don't deserve you."

"Maybe you don't." Kurt snapped impatiently.

"Nice show of support."

"I'm willing to be your support, but I will never be your crutch."

"Then back the fuck off and let me fight my own battles. I'll come out when _I_ decide I'm ready. Don't push me, Kurt."

Kurt already had his hand on the door, ready to leave, but he hesitated a moment, giving Karofsky a long, appraising look. Finally, he nodded once in agreement.

"I'll wait for you, David…but I won't wait forever."

* * *

"Dave Karofsky has as much chance of being gay as I have of losing my virginity before graduation."

Kurt's voice carried perhaps a little too loudly in the cafeteria but he was feeling guilty about his argument with Dave earlier. And Rachel Berry's comments about how friendly Kurt and Dave seemed were hitting a little too close to home.

"Really, Rachel, considering you have two dads, I'd expect your gaydar to be much better."

Kurt led the Glee girls to an empty spot one table over from where Karofsky was eating lunch by himself. Kurt sat so he'd be facing Dave without being obvious. Mercedes, Rachel, Tina and Lauren joined him.

Maybe Kurt wasn't able to tell them everything about this weekend, but he had enough details he could share to be the focus of their attention at the moment. He showed Mercedes and Tina the website of Russian designer Denis Simachev he learned about from Dave's cousins. He described the Russian buffet style meal for Lauren.

"And…" Kurt turned to Rachel, knowing she would be jealous. "…I had world class caviar."

As expected, Rachel looked disappointed that Kurt had tried caviar before she had.

"World class caviar-in Ohio?"

Kurt looked smug. "Dave Karofsky's grandmother is a caviar importer." He went on to describe Zarya with her exquisite jewelry, designer clothes and grande dame presence.

* * *

Finn Hudson took his tray and left the girls' table. He had only sat with them for ten minutes before feeling the need to escape.

"What's up, Karofsky?"

"Hudson."

Karofsky nodded warily at Finn as the quarterback set his tray down and took the seat across from Dave.

"Sorry about what happened to Azimio."

Karofsky relaxed. "…thanks…"

"Think we'll have him back by fall?"

"Dunno."

"He's still not talking to you?"

"No."

Noah Puckerman slid into the empty seat next to Finn. He flashed a too friendly grin at Karofsky.

"Yo, Karofsky, my man!"

Karofsky scowled. Puck was only friendly to him when he wanted a favor.

"What do you want, Puckered Nuts?"

Puckerman's grin vanished as he turned to Finn.

"Still think he's gonna help us?"

Sam Evans took a seat on the other side of Finn and Artie wheeled to the end of the table between Sam and Karofsky. Mike Chang sat on the same side as Dave, careful to leave an empty seat between them.

Karofsky tensed. He was cornered by all of the Glee guys. Except for Kurt.

"What do you want?" He repeated, wary again.

"We heard your sister owns a Russian restaurant."

"So?"

"So Kurt has been telling the girls how awesome it is."

"Now they want us to take them."

"Dude, you're making us look bad. Rachel heard that Kurt had caviar and she won't freaking shut up until she gets to try it, too." Finn sounded frustrated. "Do you know how Rachel gets?"

"Kinda makes you wanna shove a sock down her throat?" Karofsky threw out a line he had overheard Kurt say about the vocal brunette.

Finn glanced around to make sure Rachel was out of earshot before lowering his voice.

"Yeah!"

Puck's eyes narrowed, silently challenging. "Kurt talks like you're some hot shit caviar expert."

Dave's eyes flicked over to Kurt. Hummel had been bragging about him? Karofsky turned back to Puck with a confident smirk. "I am some hot shit caviar expert."

"As long as the food doesn't have chicken feet, Tina will be happy." Mike glanced sideways at Dave. "There _aren't _any chicken feet are there?"

"No chicken feet, just beaks." Karofsky deadpanned as he munched on a tater tot.

"Chicken beaks?" Finn looked ill.

"Oh, yeah!" Karofsky continued enthusiastically. "Fry 'em up, throw a little Tabasco sauce on 'em-that's some seriously good shit!"

Puckerman looked disgusted. "Freak."

"Guys…" Artie ventured tentatively, "…I think he just made a joke."

"Dave Karofsky, comedian." Sam flashed Dave a friendly grin to show there was no malice.

* * *

Caught up in conversation with the Glee guys, Dave didn't notice at first that Kurt's animated chatter had slowly faded into silence. He glanced over at the girls' table, struck by the unguarded, wistful look on Kurt's face. Their eyes met and Dave saw the brief flicker of longing in Kurt's glance.

The countertenor turned back to the conversation at his table. He smiled and nodded politely as he listened to the girls but to Karofsky, it seemed that Kurt's enthusiasm had dimmed.

Dave frowned.

At his table, Finn, Puck and Mike were bragging about the awesome dates they'd had over the weekend. Everyone was excited about going to Zakuski, certain they would score major points with the girls for the Ultimate Date Weekend.

Dave's eyes flicked back to Kurt's table, realization slowing beginning to sink in. If the guys were talking about the weekend, the girls would be, too. And now that he was listening for it, he heard Rachel, Tina and Lauren laughing and giggling about the boys taking them out. He watched as Mercedes hooked her arm through Kurt's and gave him an affectionate squeeze. Kurt patted her hand. They both wore the same "someday we'll have boyfriends, too" expression.

For the first time, Dave saw the situation through Kurt's eyes. He imagined Kurt being in a relationship and not being able to share the news with his closest friend. Karofsky thought about it. Was what they had even a relationship yet? They had talked about being a couple but what did that really mean now that they were back in Lima? He nudged a cold tater tot on his plate, his appetite gone. He would love to be able to tell Az about this weekend . To tell anyone about how incredible his first time with Kurt had been.

Dave's chest tightened. He had stolen Kurt's first kiss. And now he was stealing this first moment from Kurt, too. His own fears were making him selfish. Kurt had compromised, promising not to out Dave. Maybe Dave could compromise, too, and trust Kurt enough to let him his moment. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message.

_Tell M. No one else._

Karofsky hoped seeing Kurt's face light up as he read the text was worth the risk he was taking.

* * *

Kurt was at his locker when he received another text from Dave. This one said that he had to meet with Coach Beiste and would get another ride home. Kurt frowned. He hoped Dave wasn't in trouble because of shoving his sponsor after all.

He opened his locker and was surprised to see a present on the top shelf. He quickly put his messenger bag down and picked up the package.

Kurt opened the cobalt blue wrapping paper. Inside was a petite, beautifully decorated Russian lacquered box. He lifted the lid. A small paper label inside identified the contents as a caviar presentoir_. _ Kurt let out a soft "oh" of surprise as he set the label aside and admired his gift. The set contained a mother of pearl caviar spoon, an etched caviar serving glass and a matching bowl to fill with ice and hold the serving glass. When he looked more closely at the decoration, Kurt realized that his initials had been monogrammed into the delicate floral design.

Kurt had no idea when Dave would have had time to buy this much less sneak it into his locker. But he had no doubt that it was from Dave. He opened the blue and silver gift card that was attached.

_You're worth fighting for._

* * *

"Coach?"

Coach Beiste glanced up briefly then went back to her paperwork.

"Answer's still no, Karofsky, you're not running a slushie dunk booth as a fundraiser."

"Heard anything from Az?"

The coach looked up, taking a longer moment to study Dave's demeanor.

"You two not talking?"

"Does 'fuck off and die, Karofsky' count?"

"He ruptured his Achilles tendon. He's scheduled for surgery when the swelling goes down." Beiste noticed Dave kept looking over his shoulder, anxious. "Something else on your mind, Karofsky?"

Dave flicked a nervous tongue over his suddenly dry lips. "You got a minute?"

Coach Beiste got up, walked around Dave and closed her office door so they would have some privacy. She cleared off a chair and gestured for Dave to sit down.

"Park your keester."

Beiste returned to her desk, shuffled her papers together and set them aside. She leaned back in her chair, watching Dave with a steady gaze.

"I've got as many minutes as you need."

Dave picked at a hangnail on his thumb, embarrassed, angry. Nikolai and Klaus survived Sachsenhausen for two years and he couldn't even admit to one person that he was attracted to boys. One boy in particular.

"You smokin' weed?"

"No."

"Hittin' the booze?"

Dave shook his head.

"Get a girl pregnant?"

Dave shook his head again.

"You're not pregnant are you?" Coach Beiste joked, becoming worried when Dave didn't even crack a smile. "Hey, kiddo, whatever it is, it's not the end of the world."

"Sure feels like it."

"Dave…"

Karofsky looked up.

"…I've seen you face guys twice your size. You don't give up. That's not the Dave Karofsky I know. The Dave Karofsky I know digs in and shoulders through. Even when it's tough. Even when it hurts."

Dave wiped a bead of sweat from his upper lip. He could do this. It was just two little words.

_Another boy pressed his lips to mine._

Two. Words.

_Consider it an encore._

"I'm g-"

"Goddammit!" A sudden burst of activity in the locker room distracted Beiste. Instantly, she was on her feet and coming around her desk. She slowed only long enough to give Dave's arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. "Lasso that thought, cowboy. I'll be right back." She tore the door open and ran out.

Dave sat in the office, alone, listening to The Beast yell.

"Puckerman! Hudson! Evans! Jockstraps are not slingshots!"

The longer it took for Coach Beiste to return, the more time Dave had to think about what he was about to do. The more time his tiny, nagging flicker of doubt had to grow.

I want to be free of this fear which grips me so fiercely I cannot even breathe.

Panicking, Karofsky shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket and walked out.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: "Holding Out For A Hero" **sung by Bonnie Tyler from the movie "Footloose".

"**Own your c"** means to own your choice, accept responsibility for your actions.

* * *

PART 20

Karofsky slapped a wall in frustration as he wandered the empty halls, eager to put as much distance between himself and Beiste as possible. He grabbed his phone to text Kurt and see if he could still get a ride home. To his surprise, he already had a message from Kurt that he'd missed. He opened it.

_Thank you. The presentoir is lovely. _

Dave's bad mood lightened. He clicked on the attached photo. A close up of a chipmunk, cheeks stuffed with food, filled his screen. He read the caption Kurt had added.

_I'm filled with gratitude…and acorns. _

Dave laughed. He sent a quick text to find out where Kurt was. The answer came quickly.

_Auditorium._

* * *

Zarya reviewed Dina's receipts for Zakuski with a critical eye. She had noted Dina's nervousness as soon as she arrived. She peered over her glasses at her fidgety granddaughter.

"Your profits are not what they should be this week."

"There was an unexpected loss of inventory."

"Oh?" Zarya raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for Dina to elaborate.

"Some of the caviar was spoiled."

Zarya took off her reading glasses and set the papers she had been examining aside.

"If that is so, Aleks should be informed at once that we will be expecting a full refund."

"It was an act of vandalism, Nana."

Dina smoothed the fabric of her skirt, then smoothed it again, feeling the full weight of her grandmother's scrutiny.

"David stopped by the restaurant. With a guest." Dina hesitated, unsure of her grandmother's reaction. "A Hummel."

"Continue."

"He ruined the caviar."

Zarya sat back, folding her hands in her lap as she studied Dina.

"And why would he do such a thing?"

"He's a Hummel, you know how they are."

"I found him to be quite charming."

Dina's eyes widened slightly. "You met him?"

"Yes." Zarya poured another cup of tea for herself. "David brought Kurt here before they went to Zakuski. So…" Zarya gracefully sipped her tea, biding her time. "…why would he spoil the caviar, Dina?"

"I don't know."

"No? Perhaps he took offense at you embarrassing your brother. Or perhaps…" Zarya set her cup down hard, startling Dina. "…perhaps he took offense to being called a dirty fag."

Dina paled, blinking quickly to keep from crying.

"I still hold the mortgage to Zakuski. I know every detail of what is happening with my investment. Do not ever believe otherwise." Zarya's expression softened. "This is not like you, Dinochka, to be so cruel. You were always close with Mishka, is that not so?"

"You don't understand, Nana Zarya. David's been doing so well in the S.S.A.A. program. When I saw him backsliding…I followed his sponsor's instructions to reinforce that his behavior wasn't acceptable."

"S.S.A.A.?"

Dina blushed. "It's to cure David of being gay."

Zarya's lips thinned in disapproval.

"Tell me more of this…program."

* * *

Dave heard the heavy, driving beat of music start as he reached the auditorium. He ducked inside and quickly grabbed a seat. On stage, Kurt, Mercedes and Tina paid homage to 80's glam with teased hair, fingerless gloves and obviously over the top, playful diva attitudes.

_Where have all the good men gone_

_And where are all the gods?_

Dave swallowed hard at the sexy, over the shoulder pout Kurt threw his way.

_Late at night I toss and I turn_

_And I dream of what I need._

His eyes followed Kurt's red satin covered hands as they slid down tight black jeans to his pelvis. Followed by a roll of his hips and throwing his head back in a way that reminded Dave all too clearly of their weekend activities. He was watching the curve of Kurt's throat for several moments, remembering the warm, salty taste of skin on his tongue, before he realized that Kurt had covered his love mark.

Dave was surprised to feel disappointed. He was torn between fear of being outed and a smug sense of pride. He had been Kurt's first. And judging from the desperate whimpers Kurt had made, he had been pretty fucking good. He watched Kurt perform. The way he strutted, made eye contact, filled every inch of the auditorium with his presence and made no apologies for who he was. Dave wished he had Kurt's confidence.

Kurt glided his red satin gloves across his shirt, playfully tugging it open to flash a quick, pale vee of skin from throat to waist. Dave caught a glimpse of nipple and bit back a groan. Sexy as fuck. Dave discreetly pressed his palms against his hard on, trying to calm down before he embarrassed himself.

"Karofsky?" Dave jumped as Coach Beiste took the seat next to him. "You okay?"

Dave nodded, silently willing Zamboner to knock it off.

"Didn't know you were into all this Glee stuff."

"Kurt's my ride home."

Onstage, Kurt and the girls shimmied their shoulders. Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You bailed on the rodeo, kid. What'd you want to talk to me about?"

Dave's eyes flicked from Beiste to Kurt who had moved front and center to sing.

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light._

_He's gotta be sure_

_And it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life._

"I'm…" Dave rubbed his palms on his jeans. "I'm…gonna bring the lights up from the basement for Mr. Schue tomorrow."

"That's all?"

Dave licked his lips and nodded. He could see Coach Beiste studying him, could almost hear her debating whether or not to press him further. He dug his fingernails into his palms, silently praying that she would let it go.

"Alright." Beiste saw the tension in Dave's shoulders ease and the tightness in his jaw relax. She patted his arm. "If something else is on your mind, you come see me. Deal?"

"Deal, Coach."

Coach Beiste left. Dave looked up and Kurt's eyes caught his.

_It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet._

Dave sighed. If Kurt was waiting for Superman, he was going to have a long wait.

* * *

"Enough!" Zarya snapped at Dina, furious at hearing details of the S.S.A.A. program.

Dina chewed her lip, wondering if the S.S.A.A. program had been such a good idea after all. Dave had wanted to try it. But that was six months ago. And lately, now that she thought back on it, he had seemed more withdrawn than usual. And their mom had been more vocal in insisting that he stay in the program.

"I want David to be happy."

"He was happy enough when he walked into Zakuski, yes? He wasn't unhappy until he left." Zarya took Dina's chin her hand, turning her granddaughter's face to hers. "And that, Dina, was caused by you."

"I don't want him to end up like Kir." Dina ventured softly.

"Ack! Your family will be the death of me." Zarya muttered under her breath. "Kir and his husband are quite happy. Which-" Zarya continued in an admonishing tone, "-you would know well enough if you ever bothered to speak to your brother."

"I miss him."

"You are not entirely to blame, I suppose. Iakov and I wished to shield our children and grandchildren as much as we could from the Holocaust. Perhaps that was not in the best interest of our families after all." Zarya took Dina's hands in hers and smiled sadly. "I want to tell you about your great uncle Nikolai."

* * *

As Kurt drove Dave back to his house, the ride was quieter than usual. They made small talk but their conversation was strained. Finally, Dave broke the tension, asking the question that had been on his mind all day.

"So? What'd Mercedes say?"

"I didn't tell her."

"Really? Wow…uhm…thanks…"

"No, don't thank me." Kurt exhaled softly. "I didn't tell her because I realized there was someone else I should tell first." Kurt hesitated. "This weekend meant something to me. It was like auditioning for 'Defying Gravity' or the first time I said 'I'm gay.' It was a moment for me, David. And it's a moment I want to share with my dad."

Karofsky's chest tightened with panic. "You said you wouldn't out me!"

"You said I could tell Mercedes. I just want to tell Dad instead."

"Pull over."

"We're not at your house yet."

"Pull the fuck over, Hummel, or swear to God I'll bail while you're still driving!"

Kurt reached over to grab Karofsky's arm. "David-!"

Karofsky unlocked the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm pulling over!"

Kurt pulled over and Dave jumped out before they rolled to a complete stop. Karofsky slammed the door and stormed off.

* * *

Kurt was upstairs in his room when he heard his dad come home. He looked in the mirror one more time before using cold cream to wipe away the last of the concealer on his throat. His fingers traced the fading passion mark on his skin. Steeling himself, he went down to talk to his dad.

Burt Hummel flopped on the couch, t.v. remote in hand, and flipped through the channels looking for something to watch until the news came on. Kurt came downstairs, faltering a moment before walking into the living room.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

Burt Hummel turned the t.v. down but kept watching, half-listening to his son.

"Dad."

Burt muted the t.v. and turned to face his son, standing nervously at the end of the couch. Kurt's fingers hovered uneasily over his neck before he let them fall away, revealing his hickey.

"Do you think you might be ready to talk about boys now?"

Burt clicked the t.v. off.

"Who was it?" He couldn't quite keep the threatening growl from surfacing.

"David."

Burt frowned, puzzled. "Wait-Karofsky? He's gay?"

"Yes...and yes. But he isn't out yet."

"Kurt, if he hurt you, if he forced you…!"

"No! No, Dad, it wasn't like that. We both wanted to."

"You're okay?"

A shy, pleased smile flickered across Kurt's lips as he sat down at the other end of the couch. "Better than okay."

Burt fidgeted with the remote, glancing at Kurt to satisfy his own concern that his son really wasn't hurt.

"So…do you…uhm…you need to…do we need to get you checked out by a doctor…or something?"

Kurt considered the question, finding it amusing. "I can't imagine why."

"Gotta say, Kurt, I'm kinda disappointed. I thought we agreed you were gonna wait."

"We did?" Kurt asked, genuinely surprised.

"When I gave you those pamphlets to read."

"When you gave me those pamphlets, you said you wanted me to be able to do everything, Dad."

"And you said you weren't even ready to think about it!" Burt raised his voice.

"You didn't worry about me waiting when I was making out with Brittany last year." Kurt stood, getting irritated with his dad. "You were this close to giving me a high five and an 'attaboy!' So which is it, Dad? Did you want me to wait to have sex? Or did you want me to wait until I had sex with a girl?"

Burt came off the couch, closing the distance between them.

"I wanted you to wait until you and your partner were mature enough and responsible enough to deal with sex."

"We are."

"Really? You're gonna settle for a boyfriend who isn't even out yet? You're gonna settle for someone you can't hold hands with at school? Someone you can't gossip about to Mercedes?" Burt sighed. "Kurt…son…you deserve so much better."

Kurt shrugged, not wanting to admit the truth in his dad's words.

"I'll help him."

"No, Kurt. No. I wasn't happy about you and Karofsky hanging out. But I thought maybe you could be good influence on him. Instead, I get a call from the Cleveland police. Wanna tell me how you managed to do $500 worth of vandalism at a restaurant?"

Kurt gasped "$500?"

"Look, I gave him a chance. But I don't like what I'm seeing in you when you're around him. This Karofsky is garbage, Kurt. He's not good enough for you."

"A Karofsky was good enough for your dad." Kurt blurted out angrily.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Immediately, Kurt regretted his childish outburst.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. I'm gonna ask you again and I expect a straight answer. What the hell did you mean?"

Kurt took a deep breath and released it slowly. This wasn't how he had wanted his dad to find out.

"Kolya, the love of grandfather Klaus' life, wasn't a Jewish girl, Dad. Kolya is another name for Nikolai. Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky. He was David's great-uncle."

"Nikolai?" Burt sat back down on the couch, immediately realizing where his middle name had come from.

"Nikolai was sent to Sachsenhausen, a concentration camp. Klaus followed and tried to save him. But he couldn't."

"Who told you this?"

"It's in the diary…Nikolai's diary…that Dave's been translating."

"And you believe him?"

"His grandmother verified it."

Burt closed his eyes, realizing his dad had hidden the fact that he was bisexual from his children for his whole life.

"I'm going out."

"Dad-"

"Look, Kurt, I just…I can't look at you right now, okay?"

Burt brushed past Kurt, grabbed his coat and left.

* * *

_I'd rather be dead than a fag!_

The memory played over in Burt Hummel's mind as he walked into Scratch, ordered a Coke and settled in at an empty pool table.

Queer.

Homo.

Gay.

How many times had he said those words-biting, insulting-when his dad had been around to hear him? He'd told his dad his name was too faggy. The only consolation he had was that now, with Kurt, he knew better. He was doing better.

_I can't look at you right now._

Or maybe not. Burt paused in the middle of his shot, suddenly realizing how his words must have come across to Kurt. He snapped the pool cue forward, breaking the balls with more force than necessary. Damn it. He couldn't look at Kurt because he was ashamed of how he had talked to his father. He didn't mean he was ashamed of Kurt.

He line up another shot and hit the ball hard enough that it skipped over to the next table. Coach Beiste raised an amused eyebrow as Burt's ball thunked onto her pool table. Sheepishly, Burt walked over to reclaim his wayward ball.

"Sorry, Coach."

"No problem. And call me Shannon. Wanna shoot a few rounds?"

"Yeah, sure, okay." Burt stepped back and gestured towards the table. "Ladies first."

They quickly fell easily into small talk, comparing their favorite t.v. shows "The Deadliest Catch" and "America's Toughest Jobs". Naturally, it wasn't long before their conversation turned to the McKinley Titans and then to kids and teenager moodiness in general.

"Tell me about it. My right guard's walking around like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders."

Beiste missed her shot and stepped aside for Burt to line up his shot.

"Probably does feel that way." Burt admitted grudgingly. "It's been tough enough on Kurt. Can't imagine how a jock like Karofsky handles being gay."

Beiste tensed. "Karofsky's gay?"

Burt looked up, alarmed, remembering too late that Karofsky wasn't out yet. "Oh, crap…"

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, no wonder he was spooked when he came to see me." Beiste saw the look on Burt's face and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not gonna say anything unless he comes to me about it."

Burt nodded. "Thanks." He looked down at Shannon's hand on his arm and covered it with his own. "Maybe we could-uh-do this again sometime."

Beiste smiled, blushing shyly. "Maybe."

"Next week, same time?" Burt suggested playfully.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Kurt was crying. Because of him. Because of what he'd said. Burt knocked once on the door as he walked in and sat on the edge of his son's bed.

"Hey."

Sniffling, Kurt rolled over and sat up.

"When I said I couldn't look at you, it was because I was ashamed."

"Of me having sex?"

"No." Burt said firmly, looking directly in Kurt's eyes. "I was ashamed of myself, of things that I said in front of my dad." Burt paused. "Anti-gay things." He reached over and squeezed Kurt's knee. "About Karofsky…let's talk."

Kurt nodded.

* * *

Karofsky sent Kurt a short text saying that he'd found another ride to school. Kurt, in a good mood after talking to his dad last night, didn't let it upset him. When Dave showed up at his locker, Kurt was there, waiting and smiling.

"Good morning!"

Karofsky walked up to his locker uneasily. "Hey."

"Dad and I agreed that he shouldn't kill you."

Karofsky frowned. "Not funny, Hummel."

"We agreed on something else, too."

Kurt eased Nikolai's journal from his messenger bag and set it carefully in Dave's hands.

"This should stay in your family."

Kurt's hand brushed over Dave's as he relinquished the keepsake.

"I hope Nikolai left you the answers you're searching for, David."

"You're giving it to me? Just like that?"

Kurt smiled, blue eyes shining as the disbelief on Karofsky's face slowly gave way to joy.

"Just like that."

"…thanks…"

"See you in history class!"

Kurt called over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving Dave speechless as he realized Nikolai's journal was his now. He flipped through the same pages he had spent three weeks translating with a new reverence. He had all the time in the world now to read through and savor every entry.

"This one's for Az!"

A jarringly cold wall of ice and flavored syrup slammed into Dave's face, splattering onto his hands and Nikolai's journal. His grip on the diary tightened protectively.

"Own your c, Karofsky!"

Two more slushies smacked him from the sides. He turned just enough to block the slushie on his right. Unfortunately, his move left him vulnerable to the slushie on the left. More ice pelted his arms and chest, soaking in to his skin and dripping down.

"You're garbage!"

A fourth slushie hit the back of his neck. Karofsky gasped. The freezing liquid spilled over his shoulders in a waterfall, sweeping Nikolai's journal from his hands.

Karofsky shook his head, swiping desperately at the ice chips dripping into his eyes and quickly looking for the diary he'd dropped. His heart stopped when he saw it. Dave grabbed the precious book and bolted down the hall to the boys' restroom. He slammed the bathroom door open, hurriedly grabbed a fist full of paper towels and frantically started patting at the damp journal.

Dave's eyes stung with unshed tears as he helplessly watched the paper towels soak up decades old ink along with the slushie mess. The more he blotted, the quicker Nikolai's words disappeared. He sank to the floor, journal in hand, and watched his great-uncle's memories wash away, reduced to a puddle in his hands.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Someone asked about Burt and Carole. They're divorced but remain good friends in this story. Burt is still very involved in Finn's life and still considers him as his "other" son.**

**In my head, Kir Karofsky looks like Adam Lambert but with hazel eyes and less makeup. His twin Fedir looks like a boyishly scruffier version. **

**The Karofsky family members are listed at the end of the chapter to help everyone figure out who's who and their relationships to each other. Most have already appeared but a few more will show up next chapter.**

* * *

PART 21

Klaus Hummel's words were gone, too.

Dave looked at the ruined journal in his hands, the ache in his chest deepening as he realized what this would mean to Kurt. At least he still had the translated pages he'd so carefully copied down. But Kurt…only a handful of his grandfather's words had been read. Read, Dave silently berated himself, translated out loud but not written down.

Kurt had nothing.

The bathroom door opened. Immediately, Karofsky was on his feet, face twisted in an angry scowl.

"Get out!"

Mercedes stopped just inside the doorway, fear causing her to second guess her intention to check on Karofsky. Karofsky saw the look on her face and lowered his head, embarrassed that he was scaring the hell out of Kurt's best friend.

"You heard me." He added but there was no threat behind his words now.

Mercedes set her books down, wetted a paper towel and wiped a dribble of slushie off Dave's cheek. She hadn't planned to follow the football jock in here. In fact, she had felt a sense of smug satisfaction to see Karofsky finally get a taste of bullying for himself. But the look on his face as he had ran past…that quick blur that looked hurt and scared…Mercedes hadn't been able to walk away from that.

"They got you good, huh?"

"I'm okay, but-" He looked down at the journal in one hand and the used paper towels he had tried to dry it with in the other. He glanced back up to Mercedes. He held the precious book out to her, cautious but suddenly hopeful. "Can you fix it?"

Mercedes' mouth fell open a little. The look on Karofsky's face was so trusting, so earnest, like he'd promise her anything in the world if she could just make everything better. The boy just looked so damn pathetic standing there with slushie dripping into his eyes.

"Is that Nikolai's journal?"

"Yeah." Karofsky licked his lips, nervous. "So? Can you?"

Mercedes had heard about the journal from Kurt, of course. First, when he planned to ask Mr. Heigle to translate it and later when he had teamed up with Karofsky for their class project. Since then, Kurt had given her frequent, excited updates, looking forward to the day Karofsky gave him a written translation of Klaus Hummel's entries. Thinking how disappointed Kurt would be, Mercedes made her decision. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and shoved them into her purse. Then grabbed another handful before taking the book from Dave.

"Maybe I can dry it out in the choir room."

Dave nodded. "Thanks…I owe you one."

Mercedes arched an eyebrow, "Boy, you owe me helluva lot more than one. At the very least you owe me for every time you slushied me."

Dave looked uncomfortable. "What do you want ?"

"Answer one question and we'll call it even."

"What?"

"Are you gay?"

Karofsky's face paled, his eyes darting to the door.

"What? No!"

"It's okay if you are."

Dave hesitated, part of him wanting to tell her the truth.

"I'm not."

He turned away and focused on cleaning the rest of the slushie off, hoping Mercedes would just leave.

"You know, Kurt only came out last year…and even then only to me and his dad."

"…really…?" Dave wasn't sure what to do with this new information. Kurt had always seemed comfortable with being who he was.

"What? You thought my bff was born as fabulous he is? Oh, hell no. He was scared, too."

Karofsky turned the water off. Mercedes stepped forward and touched his arm.

"Listen, I love Kurt to death, but sometimes my Bay-Bay needs to calm his tits and just back the fuck off."

Karofsky choked back a laugh, shocked to hear Mercedes use such language.

"Made you smile." Mercedes continued. "Everyone has a secret. And now you know mine." She winked. "Mercedes Jones has a potty mouth."

Dave was surprised that she had made him laugh when he felt miserable.

"I'm just sayin'…don't let Kurt bully you into somethin' you're not ready for." He started with one person. Just one." Mercedes squeezed his arm. "You could, too."

"If I was gay."

"Right." A small smile of understanding tugged at the corner of Mercedes' lips. Kurt hadn't been willing to admit to being gay at first, either. But she could see that her words stayed with Dave and he was thinking over what she'd said. "If you were gay."

* * *

Kir Karofsky was used to second and even third looks when he made an entrance. He had inherited his grandmother's dark hair, arched eyebrows and piercing gaze. A touch of gel to spike his hair. A touch of eyeliner to emphasize the green in his eyes. And, finally, a light touch of lip gloss…just because he was Kir Karofsky and he would damn well wear lip gloss if he chose to. With his height and broad shoulders added in, the overall effect was that of a large cat stalking prey.

So when he walked into the upscale lingerie shop, Kir wasn't surprised at the way the sales clerks eyed him, mentally sizing him up. If his eyeliner gave them second thoughts about waiting on him, still, he was wearing a tailored suit. And if the stud earring he wore also gave them doubts, still, it was a diamond. Kir ignored their not so subtle whispering behind his back and idly began browsing through a selection of brassieres.

"May I help you?"

Kir flashed an easygoing smile at the well coiffed brunette who approached with a cool, professional demeanor. This was going to be fun.

"Pink really isn't my color. But if you have this in black, I'd love to try it on." Kir watched the saleswoman's mouth open slightly in shock. "Well?" He waited expectantly, the hanger with the lacy bra dangling from his finger.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have this in black?"

Before the saleswoman could answer, Eva Karofsky quickly intervened.

"I'll handle this."

Grateful, the brunette quickly excused herself.

Kir studied his mother's perfect chignon, not a hair out of place. Carefully applied, tasteful makeup. The black suit and crisp white blouse accented with a classic pearl necklace. The perfect little businesswoman…except for the hand she was raising to strike him.

"Do it." Kir mocked her. "Do it and I will bitch slap the blonde right off your roots."

"Get out!" Eva hissed under her breath, embarrassed by her son's presence.

"Nana Zarya would like you to join her for a family dinner."

Kir phrased the request politely, but he and his mother both knew that Zarya's request was an order and expected to be obeyed. Eva fidgeted with her necklace. A family dinner. No doubt Zarya had invited Kir and his…husband…as well. Eva swallowed her revulsion at the thought of Kir and "that man" sitting at the same table as her.

"Will Fedir be there?" Kir didn't miss the note of longing in his mother's voice or the hopeful way her eyes glanced around the shop, eagerly searching for his brother. "I'd love to see him."

Kir bit back a response. It wasn't Fedir's fault that their mother favored him-the straight twin-over the decidedly not straight one. And it wasn't Fedir's fault that their mother's way of dealing with Kir coming out was to encourage him to just "be more like Fedir."

"I suppose you'll find out when you arrive won't you, mother? 6:00 p.m., Thursday evening. Dad's house."

Eva pursed her lips. "It's still my house, too."

"Keep telling yourself that. I'm pretty sure the fact you moved out six months ago and rented an apartment down here in Columbus counts against you in divorce court."

"Do you know what I regret most about kicking you out, Kir?"

Kir tensed, surprised to hear his mother had any regrets about him leaving.

"That I waited so long to do it. Maybe if I had acted sooner, I could have saved David from your corrupt influence."

Kir's throat tightened. It had been two years since he'd been face to face with his mother. Two years and she still knew just what to say to hurt him. He'd delivered Nana Zarya's message. Without another word, he walked out.

* * *

Kurt smiled when Mercedes finally entered the choir room for a quick rehearsal before classes started. He already had music on and was practicing the choreography, his good mood bubbling out as he danced over to greet her and then circled her.

"Are we being fashionably late this morning?"

Mercedes quickly shoved Nikolai's diary in with her other books. But not before Kurt noticed.

"What are you hiding?" Kurt teased her.

"Nothing."

"Mm-hmm, and let's just see what this nothing is, shall we?"

Kurt playfully grabbed for Mercedes' books but she batted him away.

"Kurt, stop it!"

She smacked his hand sharply. Kurt gasped, surprised that Mercedes' slap had stung.

"Oh, this must be good. The new issue of Italian Vogue perhaps? Gimme!"

"Boy, don't make me hurt you…"

"Ha!" Kurt snatched the books from her hands. "Got it!" His face fell when he pulled Nikolai's damp journal from the school books. He held it away from his body, wincing as a few last drops of slushie dripped from the pages.

"What happened?" He asked quietly.

"Karofsky got slushied."

"Oh, God…I think it's ruined."

"I told Dave I'd put it on the radiator to dry off."

Kurt did a double take. "Wait…you spoke to David?"

Mercedes hmphed to herself as she took the diary from Kurt and walked to the back of the room.

"What else was I gonna do?"

After laying down a thick layer of paper towels, she carefully tented the book over the radiator register, hoping the heat would dry out the pages.

"He looked like a puppy. That had been kicked to the curb. In the rain."

Kurt giggled as he grabbed Mercedes' hand and pulled her into the choreography routine.

"You called him Dave."

"It's his name."

"You offered to help him."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Kurt twirled her to his side and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

_I know. _

_It's okay._

_We'll talk next period._

Kurt checked his phone. Again. Dave hadn't answered any of his texts. He didn't worry, though, until he walked into Mr. Heigle's history class and there was still no sign of Karofsky. As class started, Kurt sent another text.

_Where are you? _

By the end of class, there was still no response. Kurt hurried to the cafeteria but quickly realized David wasn't there, either. He checked the locker room. The weight room. Nothing. Finally, he checked the last place he could think of, the last place he expected David to be.

The auditorium.

Kurt watched from the wings as Dave, now wearing his sleeveless red hoodie and gray tee, came up from the basement hefting two Fresnel stage lights. He set them down beside the four already backstage. Kurt watched the play of light and shadow across Dave's arms and shoulders as he worked, his fingers unconsciously twitching at the memory of holding fast to those muscular forearms as David's body rode his. Kurt slid his messenger bag around front, embarrassed by his sudden erection.

After Dave carefully set the two lights down, he wiped a forearm across his eyes, clearing away a light sheen of sweat. He headed back down the spiral stairs to the basement to grab another pair of Fresnels. He liked losing himself in repetitive, physical tasks like this. The workout cleared his head and made it easier to think through his problems.

Last night he had stopped by the hospital to see Azimio but Az still refused to talk to him. After twenty minutes of stony silence, Az's dad had politely but firmly suggested Dave should go home. On the way home, his mom had called to bitch him out about attacking his S.S.A.A. sponsor. And then this morning, the journal. Dave sighed. In the hotel room, with Kurt, it had been so easy to believe everything would work out.

He picked up the lights and turned to go back upstairs.

Kurt.

Kurt was there, watching him with those unreadable blue green eyes. Wordlessly, he walked up and wrapped his arms around Dave's waist, leaning his head into David's chest with a quiet murmur of contentment.

"What do you need, David?"

Karofsky set the lights down, careful not to dislodge Kurt. Then pulled Kurt closer, nuzzling his neck with a soft sob. He hadn't known what he needed until Kurt offered. No questions. No deep conversation. Just acceptance.

"This…just this."

"Alright." Kurt made soft, soothing noises under his breath. "Okay."

For a long moment they stayed in each other's arms, neither speaking. Then Karofsky's hands slid down to cup Kurt's ass.

"And maybe this."

Kurt laughed against David's shoulder. Then, without warning, Karofsky slid his hands under Kurt's thighs, picked him up and carried him over to a low bench. Kurt wrapped his arms around David's neck and his legs around the football jock's waist. Dave pressed Kurt against the bench as he lowered his head.

"And this."

David kissed him, leaving Kurt breathless.

* * *

The taste of Kurt stayed on Dave's lips through calculus. For the rest of the day, he thought about what Mercedes had said. And about his own words-that Kurt was worth fighting for. By the time school ended, Dave resolved to do what needed to be done.

He walked into the office, closed the door and stood with his back against it, hands still holding fast to the knob, willing himself to stay.

"I'm gay."

He blurted it out before he could change his mind. It reminded him of ripping off a Band-Aid, hoping that the faster it was done, the less it would hurt.

"Yeah, the hickeys you left on my kid's throat kinda gave you away, Karofsky."

"Just let me finish!" Karofsky snapped, it was hard enough to say what he needed to say without Kurt's dad giving him a hard time, too.

Burt Hummel leaned back in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest, not at all happy with Karofsky's tone.

"I'm gay...and I'm sorry."

Burt raised his eyebrows at Karofsky's unexpected apology.

"You trusted me with Kurt and I let you down. Because you didn't know…and you thought Kurt was safe with me…in the hotel room."

Burt's lips twitched, hiding his amusement. From the way Kurt had told the story, it sounded like David was the one who hadn't been safe. He wasn't happy about the boys having sex, but Kurt had been adamant that he had made the first move. Burt felt his cheeks growing warm. Kurt had also felt compelled to emphasize to his dad that it had been a good experience.

One he looked forward to repeating.

With David.

The boy standing across from Burt right now.

Burt rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying very hard not to think too much about Kurt, David and the details of that night in the hotel. The last thing he needed was a second heart attack. He got up, walked over to Karofsky and squeezed his shoulder.

"Sit down."

David nervously fumbled his way to the chair and sat.

"Coke? Mountain Dew? Beer?"

Karofsky stared at Kurt's dad, now standing by the office fridge with the door open and looking at him expectantly. He wanted a Mountain Dew. But he figured Kurt's dad was definitely a beer man. On the other hand, he also figured Mr. Hummel knew he wasn't old enough to drink. Was this a test?

"A beer would be great!"

Burt grabbed two cans, closed the door and handed one to Dave before taking his seat again. Karofsky glanced at the cold drink and laughed. Root beer.

"Nice try." Burt said, grinning as he popped open his own can of Coke. He sipped once then sat back and studied Dave as he fidgeted with the tab on his soft drink. "You went out in a storm to get dry clothes for Kurt."

"Yeah, we both got pretty soaked."

"You were gonna sleep in your car and let Kurt have the room."

Dave shifted, uncomfortable. He would have had enough money to get another room if he hadn't had to pay for their dinners at Zakuski. And if he had gotten a second room, nothing would have happened with Kurt. Maybe that was the point Mr. Hummel was trying to make.

"I wasn't sure I had enough money for another room and gas to get us home."

Burt nodded and seemed satisfied with his answer.

"I'm gonna say this once, Karofsky, and you better hear me when I say it."

Dave swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"You did good."

"Uhm…what?"

"You took care of Kurt. You got him home safe." Burt paused, letting his words sink in. "You did good."

Finally, Dave opened his soda and took a long drink. He let out a tense breath, able to relax. A shy, pleased smile played across his lips.

"But…"

Dave glanced up as Burt continued.

"…Kurt deserves a boyfriend who's as comfortable with being gay as he is."

"I know."

"Don't get me wrong. It took a lot of balls for you to come here and say what you did. But you've got a long way to go. And I'm not gonna be happy with you dating my son until you're willing to be public with your relationship."

"Understood."

Dave set his root beer down and stood to leave.

"David."

"Yes, sir?"

"You're gay. A lotta people are gonna give you a hard time when you come out." Dave nodded, he was already expecting the worst. "But a lotta people are gonna be on your side, too." Burt held out his hand. "More than you think."

Karofsky accepted Burt's handshake.

* * *

**A/N: Karofsky family members: **

**Zarya,** Dave's grandmother, widow of Sergei, mother to Paul, Peter and Petra, sister to Iakov, Nikolai, Lev and Luka.

**Sergei, **Dave's grandfather, distant cousin and husband to Zarya (deceased).

**Iakov, **Dave's great-uncle, brother to Zarya (deceased).

**Nikolai/Kolya, **Dave's great-uncle, Klaus Hummel's lover, brother to Zarya (died in Sachsenhausen).

**Lev & Luka,** Dave's great-uncles (twins), brothers to Zarya (not mentioned by name, died in Auschwitz).

**Paul,** Dave's dad, twin brother of Peter, son of Zarya.

**Peter, **Dave's uncle, twin brother to Paul, son of Zarya.

**Petra, **Dave's aunt, sister to Paul and Peter, daughter of Zarya.

**Eva, D**ave's mother, also mother of Kir, Fedir and Dina, estranged wife to Paul.

**Kir and Fedir, **Dave's brothers (twins), also brothers to Dina, sons of Paul and Eva.

**Kyle, **Kir's husband, Dave's brother-in-law (not mentioned by name).

**Dina Nadeev, **Dave's sister, also sister to Kir and Fedir, daughter of Paul and Eva.

**Toma Nadeev, **Dina's husband, Dave's brother-in-law.

**Tanya Nadeev, **Dave's niece, daughter of Dina and Toma.

**David,** brother to Kir, Fedir and Dina, son of Paul and Eva.

**Aleks,** Dave's second cousin, son of Iakov, nephew to Zarya.

**Gleb, **Dave's first cousin, son of Peter, grandson to Zarya.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: A very special "thank you!" to Starkidmack for her suggestions-they definitely improved this chapter! Any mistakes are mine. This is a looooong chapter-sorry! Also, the next chapter or two will be darker.  
**

**Babushka is Russian for "old woman" or "grandmother".**

**De Jaeger and Fauchon are real companies but are used here fictitiously. **

**Warning: Sex (frottage not penetration-in case it's not clear).**

* * *

PART 22

Kurt was in the laundry room folding clothes when Burt came home for dinner.

"Dad, I was getting worried."

Burt shook a light dusting of snow off his coat. "Weather's not that bad, kiddo."

"How was your day?"

"Same old, same old…until your boy showed up."

Kurt paused. "My…boy?"

"Karofsky."

"Oh." Kurt turned to away so his dad wouldn't see the smile ghosting across his lips. _My boy._ He liked the way that sounded. "What did he want?"

"To make sure I knew he was gay."

For a moment, Kurt couldn't breathe.

"What, exactly, did he say, Dad?"

"He said, 'I'm gay.'"

Kurt's throat tightened with emotion as he slowly sat down, realizing the huge step David had taken.

"Do you know what this means?"

"That he's gay?" Burt answered wryly.

"Outside of his family, you're the first person David's come out to." Kurt sighed happily. "He came out. I am so proud of…" Kurt looked slyly at Burt. "…my boy. Where's my phone? I need to text him!"

"What about dinner?"

"Salmon will be ready in a few minutes."

"Salmon? Again?"

"It's good for your heart!" Kurt called over his shoulder as he ran out to look for his phone.

Later, after a quick text to David that, so far, had been unanswered, Kurt returned to finish the laundry. He carried his dad's work shirts upstairs and put them neatly in the closet. When he came back to pick up his own clothes, he found Karofsky's t-shirt in the dryer with his. The shirt was a gray vee neck with "McKinley Titans" and the number "67" on the front in red. It was the shirt Dave had loaned him at the hotel. The spare tee from his gym bag.

Kurt felt a rush of warmth at the memory. He ran a hand over the shirt, remembering how it had looked when Karofsky wore it. Quickly, Kurt stripped off his shirt and shrugged into Dave's tee. He smiled smugly to himself. Well, technically, David _had_ given it to him. And, technically, he _hadn't_ asked for it back. Kurt laughed happily. Tonight, he was going to sleep in _his boy's_ t-shirt.

* * *

Early Thursday morning, before classes, Puck snagged the Home Ec room for Karofsky and the Glee boys to use. Kurt and David had set up a small Russian buffet with a few standard zakuski dishes and, of course, caviar samples.

Finn wrinkled his nose at the odd looking eggs but followed Kurt's example, putting a small serving onto a piece of buttered black bread.

"What is caviar anyway?"

"Fish eggs."

Sam lifted a spoonful. "Kinda looks like tapioca pudding."

Finn laughed as he took a bite. "No, really, what is caviar?"

"Fish eggs." Kurt repeated.

Finn gagged. Kurt was horrified at the thought of very expensive caviar being spit out.

"Finn, I'm warning you…"

Finn looked around for a trash can.

"Don't you dare-!"

Finn started choking.

"You gonna spit or swallow, Hudson?" Karofsky teased. Kurt shot him a look that said he clearly wasn't helping.

"Swallow, Finn!" Kurt ordered and, to his relief, Finn managed to get the caviar down.

"Maybe we could add some cheese or bacon or something?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's caviar, Finn, not an Egg McMuffin."

Puck watched the others, laughing at the faces Mike made over a pickled fish dish, but making no move to join in himself. Dave noticed his reluctance. He walked up to Puckerman and nudge his shoulder.

"The red eggs are salmon roe." Dave lowered his voice. "They're kosher."

Puck raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested. "Yeah?"

David moved over to the table and Puck followed. "So are these two. Just stay away from the three on the other side."

Puck nodded. Karofsky guided him through the dishes and the other guys joined in. David was careful to suggest certain foods to Noah and to steer him clear of others. But he did the same for Finn, Sam, Mike and Artie so no one noticed.

Or so David thought.

Until he looked up and saw Kurt smiling his approval. David ducked his head, blushing. He was proud of his Russian heritage but this was the first time he had really shared it with anyone at McKinley. He wanted to make a good impression.

Finn, mouth full of food, nodded at Karofsky and gave him a thumbs up. Sam punched Dave in the shoulder-a little too enthusiastically. Even Puck mumbled "Good shit." as he went back for seconds.

"Karofsky Caviar?" Artie looked up from his laptop, a stunned look on his face.

Mike, looking over Artie's shoulder at the Google results he had pulled up, let out a low whistle. Kurt threw David a puzzled look but Karofsky shrugged, just as confused as Kurt was.

Sam glanced at Artie's laptop then at Karofsky and laughed. "Dude, seriously, you're like a bazillionaire and you didn't say anything?"

"What?" Kurt's mouth fell open in shock.

By this time, Mike had cleared a space on the table and Artie set the laptop down so everyone could see. Finn squinted at the screen. Then at Karofsky. Then back to the screen.

"…one of the top ten caviar exporters…"

"…in the world." Puck finished. He grinned at David. "Niiiiiiiice!"

Kurt choked on the bottled water he had gulped too fast. Immediately, David and Finn were at his side, thumping his back. David looked sheepishly at the rest of the guys.

"It's my grandmother's company."

"Still…"Puck's wolfish grin hadn't faltered. "…you're her grandson, right? You're gonna tell me you don't get a little spending money? A couple thousand here and there?" Puck licked his lips. "Pretty sweet ride you're drivin' to school."

Karofsky scowled, a warning growl deepening his voice. "Everything I have, I worked for. Including my GTO."

Kurt laid a hand on his arm, feeling his muscles bunched with tension, but the gesture was enough to distract Dave. He glanced at Kurt and nodded.

"I gotta get this mess cleaned up."

Sam started clearing the table and carrying dishes to the sink. "We got this." He eyed the others. "Right, guys?"

Finn offered a lopsided grin. "Least we can do."

"Thank you, David." Artie added sincerely.

Dave's expression eased. "You got any questions, just let me know."

* * *

Kir and Fedir were carrying food in from Dina's car when Dave came home for dinner. Kir, just coming out of the house, stopped on the porch when he saw Gruff pull up. Fedir, already in the driveway, gave Dave a hug as he got out. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge his twin's reaction. Kir's face was stony.

Dave felt a rush of guilt. Two years ago, he had been the one standing on the porch, waiting to hand Kir his suitcases. Waiting to tell his older brother that the rest of his belongings would be packed and on the porch first thing the next morning. Dave felt his chest tighten. Waiting for Kir to leave so he could go back to being normal. Had he really believed that being around Kir that summer while they worked on Gruff, listening to him talk about boys, had somehow rubbed off and made him gay?

God, he had been such a fucking ass.

"Who's the twink?" Kir glared at Kurt as he got out of the car. "And why is he here?" The second question he directed at Dave.

"The 'twink'-" Kurt answered icily, "-has a name. Kurt Hummel." He lifted his chin slightly as he walked up to the porch. "And I was invited by Nana Zarya." He added airily, knowing that Zarya's name carried weight in the Karofsky family.

Kir eyed Kurt, taking in his hair, clothing, even the way he stood-one hand on his hip, meeting his gaze as if Kir was the outsider here.

"He's…a friend." Dave finally answered, not sure yet if he had the right to call Kurt his boyfriend.

Kir looked Kurt over a second time. His brother had brought this…boy toy, Kir thought derisively to himself…to the house, embracing the very qualities that had gotten Kir kicked out.

It hurt.

"Interesting scarf."

"Thank you." Kurt answered, willing to be civil if Kir was. "It's Marc Jacobs."

Kir laughed, and it wasn't friendly. "No, darling, it's a Marc Jacobs wannabe. Maybe when you grow up you'll be able to afford a real designer." Kir gave Kurt a catty smile. "Or at least a better quality fake."

Kir shoulder checked Kurt, pushing him into a porch pillar as he passed. "Bitch."

"Hag." Kurt retorted, quickly darting his ankle out to trip Kir.

Kir stumbled but caught himself. He stopped on the lower step and turned slowly to face Kurt.

"Oh, no, you didn't."

Kurt squared his shoulders, not backing down. "No one pushes a Hummel."

Kir started towards Kurt but David blocked him.

"Leave him alone!"

Irritated, Dave shoved his older brother, pushing him away from Kurt. Kir came back, tackling Dave and taking them both to the ground. Fedir sidestepped the brawl. He grabbed Kurt, who was coming after Kir, and pulled him out of the way as well. Kurt shrugged out of his grasp, throwing him an angry look. Smiling, Fedir offered his hand.

"Kurt was it? I'm Fedir." He nodded towards Kir and Dave. "You already met Kir. We're David's brothers."

"They're fighting!"

Fedir shrugged. "Not the first time."

Zarya walked onto the porch, quickly assessed the situation and rapped her cane sharply against the top stair. Dave and Kir, sprawled in the snow, looked sheepishly at their grandmother.

Zarya folded her hands over her cane and looked stern. "Are you quite finished?"

Both boys scrambled to their feet.

"David, apologize to Kir."

Dave glanced sideways at Kir and mumbled an apologetic "…sorry..."

"Kir, give your brother a hug."

Kir, to make a point, ignored Dave and walked towards Fedir. Zarya thudded her cane against the stair again.

"Your _other_ brother."

Kir knew that tone in his grandmother's voice. He turned back and grabbed Dave in a quick, rough hug.

"And you." Zarya pointed at Fedir who was grinning cheekily. "I do not yet know what you have done but I am certain you have to been up to some mischief as well." Fedir laughed. "Give your brothers a hug, Fedir." Fedir did as told. Zarya eyed her grandsons for a long moment then nodded to herself, satisfied. "Kir, David, go upstairs and make yourselves presentable. Fedir, see that the blue packages are refrigerated at once."

A looked passed between the brothers and then, as one, in a singsong voice, they spoke up.

"We love you, Nana Zarya."

Zarya shook her head but she was smiling as the boys climbed the stairs and kissed her cheek. Kurt, not quite sure what to do, followed Dave. Zarya stopped him with her cane.

"Kurt Hummel. I am pleased you are joining us."

"Thank you for inviting me…" Kurt paused, flustered. "…I'm not sure what to call you."

Zarya's face softened. "Nana or Nana Zarya would be acceptable. Babushka-" She glanced pointedly at Fedir as he passed. "-as this one has yet to learn-is not." Fedir chuckled, ducking his head as he carried the blue packages inside.

Kurt kissed Zarya's cheek. "Thank you for inviting me…Nana."

Dave, realizing Kurt wasn't behind him, hurried back outside. Zarya held her palm out expectantly to David.

"Your car keys, please."

"Nana, I don't think you should be driving."

Zarya made a dismissive noise. "Your keys!"

Reluctantly, David fished his keys from his pocket and handed them to Zarya. Zarya held them out to Kurt. He glanced at Dave before accepting them, a mischievous grin playing across his lips as he dangled the keys from his finger.

"Of course I should not be driving." Zarya scoffed at her grandson. "I am not an idiot, Mishka."

Dave blushed. "No, Nana." He looked nervously at Kurt. "Will you be gone long?"

"We will be gone exactly as long as we need to be." Zarya answered.

With that, Zarya started down the steps.

"I can't very well refuse your grandmother." Kurt jingled the keys. "That would be rude."

Dave shot him a look. "You're enjoying this."

Kurt giggled. "Definitely!"

Dave scuffed at a patch of snow on the steps, suddenly shy about kissing Kurt goodbye in front his grandmother who wasn't aware of their relationship yet. Stalling, he pulled out his wallet, grabbed a twenty dollar bill and awkwardly pressed it into Kurt's hand.

"Gas money. There's only a quarter of a tank left." Blushing harder, he leaned down to kiss the smaller boy quickly on the cheek. "Be careful."

"I will."

Kurt turned to go down the steps but, seeing the pleased look on Zarya's face, he couldn't resist saying goodbye with a bit more flare.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

He turned back, threw himself against David, arms wrapping tight around his neck and pulled him in for a deep, tongue melding kiss.

"You be careful, too."

Kurt joined Zarya at the bottom of the steps. He helped the elderly woman to the car, made sure she was comfortably settled in the passenger seat then walked around to the driver's side. After getting in and adjusting the driver's seat, he glanced over at David's grandmother.

"Where would you like to go, Nana?"

"I should like very much to visit Sofia…and your grandparents."

"Oh."

Zarya frowned at Kurt's subdued reaction. "My request upsets you?"

"It's just…my mom is buried in the same cemetery." Kurt's voice softened. "I always sing for her when I visit." He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Not that I think she hears me but it makes me feel better."

"Then of course we will pay our respects to your mother as well."

Kurt nodded. A moment later he started the car and, after making sure Zarya was warm enough, he smoothly  
backed Gruff out of the driveway and took off.

* * *

Kir carefully shrugged out of his leather jacket, grimacing at the mud and melting snow that had trickled down the sleeve of his sweater. He hung his coat in the foyer to dry. When Dave came back in, he approached his brother about changing his clothes.

"I suppose I'll have to borrow something from you."

He headed upstairs with Dave close behind. Kir opened the door to David's bedroom, only to find it had been turned into a sewing room. He glanced questioningly at his younger brother.

"I moved into your room…after you left." Dave offered meekly.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Kir closed the door and followed as Dave led the way to his room. He walked in and waved a hand towards the closet.

"Take whatever you want."

"Like you did?"

Kir barely glanced at the room that used to be his before walking to the closet and rifling through David's clothes.

* * *

At Zarya's request, Kurt drove to a florist first and they bought flowers to place on the graves. Afterwards, they rode in silence, watching a few fat snowflakes drift lazily through the air.

"Kir's resentment towards you is not personal."

Kurt's jaw tightened. "My shoulder would disagree."

Zarya grew concerned. "I did not believe my grandson had hurt you but if you are injured, let us go to a hospital and have a doctor examine you."

"I'm fine. Really." He offered a smile. "It just wasn't quite the greeting I expected."

"There is a reason I did not ask Kir to apologize to you. I hope, however, you will accept my apology on his behalf. You are my guest, Kurt. I wish you to be comfortable."

"Apology accepted."

They arrived at the cemetery and Kurt turned down the winding lane that led to his mother's grave.

"Nana Zarya?"

"Yes?"

"You made Kir apologize to David, why not me?"

To his surprise, Zarya chuckled softly.

"Did you not see how similar you two are?"

"I am nothing like-!" Kurt stopped mid-protest, grudgingly admitting, "We might have one or two qualities in common."

"Two years ago, David was very different. He had become increasingly hostile towards Kir, fighting with him, calling him vulgar names. I did not understand at the time why my Mishka had changed so. Eventually, Kir was asked to leave." Zarya looked at the window, watching the scenery slowly pass. "David was the one who packed up Kir's belongings and put them on the porch."

Kurt's irritation with Kir faded as he realized the situation he had walked into.

"And today, David shows up with me at his side."

"Even so."

"Thank you, Nana, I understand now."

Kurt parked at the bottom of the hill that led to where Elizabeth Hummel was buried.

"I'll will wait here." Zarya offered, understanding that this was his time to reflect on his mother's memory and giving him the privacy to do so. It also gave her time to reflect on how much Kurt reminded her of his grandfather, Klaus Hummel.

She watched the young man walk the short distance to his mother's grave, place a pink carnation at her headstone and then trace his fingers over her name. After a moment, he stepped back, lifted his chin and began to sing.

Zarya immediately recognized the Nat King Cole song as one of David's favorites. She rolled the window down in spite of the chill in the air so that she could hear better. When he finished, he stood quietly for several long moments and then, with a sigh, he returned to the car.

"You have a lovely voice."

"Thank you."

"Perhaps one day you and Mishka will sing for me, yes?"

Kurt grinned. "He'll have to expand his repertoire to more than two songs."

Zarya frowned. "What do you mean? David has been singing since he was 8. He knows many songs including the one you have just performed."

"David really sings?" Kurt asked skeptically.

"You do not believe me?" She pointed to the iPod mounted on the dash. "There is a folder marked 'nana'. Play it."

Incredulous, Kurt thumbed through the screens. He found the folder, opened it and saw there were several Nat King Cole songs listed-including "Unforgettable", the one he had just sung. He pressed the play arrow. Dave Karofsky's voice, rich, deep and smooth filled the car.

"…oh…my…"

Zarya glanced sideways at Kurt, smugly satisfied as she nodded to herself.

"My Mishka can sing."

"He certainly can." Kurt agreed, delighted to discover that Dave was much more musically accomplished than he had let on. He sang along with the recording. Unexpectedly, Zarya added her clear soprano voice to Kurt's tenor and David's baritone, a soft counterpoint to the melody.

Kurt sighed happily when the song ended. "Apparently your Mishka isn't the only one who can sing, Nana."

Zarya was flattered by his compliment.

"After Sachsenhausen, while we were waiting in Berlin to finalize our papers, Sofia often distracted me from my thoughts my teaching me the songs she knew."

Kurt started the car and pulled away, following the curving roads and cross streets to where his grandparents were.

"Did you ever hear my grandmother sing?"

"Many times. Elfie and Sofia were quite charming when they performed together."

"And my grandfather?"

"Not so often." Zarya's lips twitched. "He was quite loud." She smiled. "And quite terrible."

She laughed and Kurt knew that her comment wasn't said maliciously. He pulled into a small cul-de-sac off of the main road and parked. Zarya waited until he came to the door, taking his arm and letting him guide her up the few steps to the grave site.

A dogwood tree shaded the three headstones. It was bare now but in the spring the dark branches would be filled with pink blossoms. A stone bench sat off to one side. Zarya gripped Kurt's arm for support as she knelt and placed a yellow rose on each grave. She closed her eyes, lips moving silently in prayer. Kurt kept his thoughts to himself. Maybe he didn't think God existed but he wasn't going to disrespect Zarya's beliefs.

When she finished, Zarya walked over to the bench, brushed off the few snowflakes clinging to the surface and seated herself.

"Come, sit for a moment, Kurt."

"Oh…uhm…alright."

Kurt eyed the damp bench dubiously. He removed his scarf, refolded it before laying it over the stone then carefully tucked his coat under before sitting down.

"I wished to speak to you privately, to ask if you knew if there was anyone special in David's life." Kurt blushed as Zarya continued. "However, I believe you have already answered my question…most thoroughly." She studied Kurt, assessing his potential as a mate for her grandson. "Do you love him?"

"I'm not sure."

Zarya reached over and took Kurt's hand in hers, patting it gently.

"The moment you realize you are in love will never be the moment you expect it to be. A romantic dinner? A special song? No." Zarya smiled knowingly. "It will be like an evening star. You will never see it appear but suddenly…" She gestured gracefully to the twinkling sky overhead. "…there it is."

* * *

"Kir?" Dave finally spoke up, breaking the silent tension between him and his brother.

"What?" Kir answered sharply.

"I am sorry."

Kir paused, pretending to look at a burgundy sweater.

"Was I really a bad influence on you?"

"No. No, you were great."

Kir pulled a turtleneck from the closet, compared it to the sweater, then shook his head and put it back.

"I would have helped. If you had told me what was going on-what you were going through-I would have helped you."

"I still need your help, Kir."

Kir turned around. David stood by his dresser, shirtless. Slowly, he lifted his arm so Kir could see the marks left from cutting himself.

"Oh, Mishka…" Kir's eyes filled with compassion. "…what have you done?"

David sat on the bed.

"There's this program…I thought it was a good idea at first."

"So it's true then."

Dave looked up in surprise as Kir came over and sat beside him.

"You know?"

Kir traced his fingers lightly over the scars.

"I think it's part of the reason Nana called a family meeting."

"I don't want to go back." Dave's voice wavered. "But I don't want Dad to kick me out, either."

Kir nodded. "Wait here."

* * *

_They were lovers._

One photo, three words and Eva Karofsky's life was forever changed. She sat in her car parked in the driveway of the Karofsky house thinking back to that moment. She had taken the children to Zarya's house to visit their grandmother. She often did. With Paul frequently out of town on business, Eva turned to Zarya for companionship and for many years the two women had gotten along quite well.

The children had been in the back yard playing. Zarya had gone to the kitchen to make tea. Eva had found an old scrapbook and, bored, idly began flipping through the pages. As she was putting the book back, a clipping fell out from between the pages. The black and white photo caught Eva's eye.

Two men. One appeared to be an S.S. officer and the other a prisoner wearing a striped uniform with a triangle and number on it. Eva knew Zarya had been in a concentration camp. From what she had gathered here and there, she thought other members of the Karofsky family may have been there as well. Zarya rarely mentioned Sachsenhausen. She often changed the subject if it was brought up saying she preferred to live in the present.

After a moment's hesitation, Eva carried the clipping into the kitchen and asked Zarya about it. She glanced once at the photo then busied herself with the tea. After all these years, she still felt a dull, aching grief when she saw Nikolai's face.

"Put it away, please, Eva."

"I just want to know who they are."

"Kolya was my brother."

"And the other one?"

"Klaus."

"Why are they together and smiling? Were they friends? Relatives?"

"They were lovers."

Eva had gasped, slapping the clipping onto the counter, wanting it out of her hand as quickly as possible.

"That's disgusting!"

Eva had forgotten Zarya's exact response, remembering only that she had been furious and that they had argued, shouting and screaming and their amicable relationship had irrevocably shattered.

Eva gripped the steering wheel, shaking off the past memory and anchoring herself in the present. Since that day, she had been vigilant, looking for any sign that her children, too, might be afflicted with homosexuality. She hadn't been able to save Kir. But there was still a chance Dave could be rescued. He had been doing so well. And the S.S.A.A. team seemed confident that his relapse was temporary and they could get him back on course. Eva steeled herself. David's counselor had been coaching her and she was ready now to take the next step to reclaim her son.

* * *

Kir brought Fedir and Dina upstairs to the bedroom. Dina gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth when she saw David's skin. Fedir's easygoing grin vanished.

"Mother-" Kir's voice was hard. "-forced David into a conversion program."

"That's not true." Dina said softly. "He wanted to go."

"You're not defending her?" Fedir interrupted before Kir could. "You're not defending this!" He pointed to Dave's cuts.

"Of course not!" She snapped back, upset.

"I've made mistakes." Eva entered the room, barely glancing at her other children before focusing on her youngest son as she walked over and sat next to him on the bed. "I'd like to apologize."

Eva brushed her fingers lightly through David's hair. He swallowed hard. There were times, like now, when he remembered the mother she used to be. The mother he had adored. He closed his eyes.

"I am so proud of you. I know it hasn't been easy. I know you're at a low point right now."

"Leave him alone." Kir and Fedir spoke at the same time, both taking a threatening step towards their mother.

Eva ignored them as she leaned in to kiss Dave's temple.

Dina crossed her arms, facing Eva from the other side of the bed.

"Mom, he can't go back to S.S.A.A."

Eva leaned in to his shoulder, her cheek warm against his, her voice soft and reassuring in his ear.

"Shh, it gets better. I promise. But in order for things to get better, you have to trust me. You have to stay with the program-even when it seems impossible."

Kurt came upstairs and stopped short in the doorway, not sure what to make of the scene before him. "David, what's going on?"

Eva frowned, irritated at being interrupted just when she seemed to be getting through to her son. Reluctantly, she pulled away from David and stood to face Kurt.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

Kurt hesitated, sensing the tension in the room. His eyes flicked to Kir's. Instead of the open hostility he had expected, Kir met his gaze with an ever so slight nod. Interesting. Kurt walked in with a carefully neutral smile, hand held out to introduce himself to Eva.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, David's boyfriend."

A look of alarm flashed across Dave's face.

"If you're claiming to be my son's…_boyfriend_…", Eva said the word as if she had tasted something bitter, "…then meeting you is hardly a pleasure."

Kurt put his hand on his hip and arched one eyebrow, mood changing from cautiously civil to recklessly pissed off in two seconds.

"Is that right?"

He walked over, straddled Dave's lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him, working his tongue until he felt the football jock's hands tighten on his waist and his moan vibrate against his mouth. He pulled back, satisfied with the dazed look in those hazel eyes. Kurt threw Eva a smug look as he delicately traced a finger over his own lips.

"Frankly, bitch, you're not the one I'm concerned about pleasuring."

Kurt disengaged himself, smoothing his sweater.

"David, you have five minutes to put a shirt on and come downstairs." Kurt threw him a sultry look. "Otherwise, I'll be back to finish undressing you."

With that, Kurt walked out, head held high and not bothering to look back. Dave's eyes followed, lingering on the empty doorway long after he'd left.

Kir's eyes were sparkling with mirth at the scene he had just witnessed. His mother, still speechless, looked positively livid. He glanced at Dina and Fedir.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but _I'm_ certainly not going to try to top Kurt." He flashed a wicked grin at Dave, watching him turn red at the double entendre.

Laughing, Kir grabbed the burgundy sweater and left with Fedir close behind. Dina waited, fidgeting with her skirt. She glanced nervously from Eva to Dave.

"Will you be okay?"

David nodded. "I'll be down shortly."

"In five minutes?" Dina teased as she left the room.

He laughed. A laugh that died quickly when he saw the cold fury on Eva's face. Had he really thought things would be different? He quickly rummaged in his closet, found an olive green polo he thought Kurt would like and changed into it.

"David-."

Eva reached for him but he backed away.

"I'm gay. I don't wanna change. Deal with it or stay the fuck away."

He walked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Kurt sat on a stool in the kitchen, pale and wide eyed, knees literally shaking over what he had just done. He had practically humped David in front of his family. What had he been thinking? He laid his head on the counter with a groan. God, he was so embarrassed. And David. He must be mortified.

Kir walked in to see the young teen looking miserable. He finished shrugging into Dave's sweater, walked over and placed both hands on Kurt's shoulders. Startled, Kurt looked up. Kir grinned, feline eyes bright and amused.

"Best. Bitch off. Ever."

"You're not mad?"

Kir snorted. "Hardly!" He nudged Kurt. "Scooch. I need to work on the garnishes."

Kurt scooted over, grateful at Kir's warmer attitude towards him. He watched , fascinated, as the older boy deftly wielded a knife to craft little mice out of radishes. And then he was transforming apples into swans. Enchanted, Kurt didn't notice that Dina and Fedir were also in the kitchen preparing the rest of the food.

"So what is it that you do?" Kurt asked as he arranged the radish mice on the cheese tray.

"Magic." David answered, coming in behind Kurt and surprising him with a hug. He kept Kurt in his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder. After the confrontation with his mother, it was good to see his siblings getting along with each other and making Kurt feel welcome.

"Kir's not the only one who can do magic." Fedir joined in. He popped one of the mice into his mouth as Dina tried to swat his hand away. "I make things disappear."

Kir rolled his eyes. "I'm a caterer. I specialize in wedding cakes and edible arrangements." He looked over his work, pleased with himself. "I think we're ready for dinner now."

* * *

When Eva finally came downstairs, she noted with displeasure that her husband, Paul Karofsky, had seated Zarya at the head of the table. He sat at the opposite end, taking Eva's seat. Kurt, as the guest, sat in the place of honor on Zarya's right. Dave sat at Kurt's side and Kir had taken the last chair on that side of the table.

Fedir sat on Zarya's left, his sister Dina beside him. Coldly, Eva took the empty seat between Dina and Paul. Paul, oblivious to Eva's mood, smiled warmly at his family. He gripped Kir's arm affectionately.

"It's good to have you back, Kir."

Kir glanced skeptically at his father's hand. "Is it?"

Paul's smile faltered. His eyes flicked uncertainly to Eva then back to his oldest son. He squeezed Kir's arm again.

"Yes. You're looking well, son. I hope we'll see more of you now that you've gotten your life straight."

Kir's lips quirked, amused by his dad's choice of words.

"Oh, I'm as straight as I'll ever be."

"Glad to hear it." Paul beamed, completely missing the dry sarcasm in Kir's voice.

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"And Kurt."

Kurt immediately turned to Paul Karofsky. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm glad you were able to join us."

"Thank you for having me."

"Some of us have had a bit more of you than others." Fedir said under his breath, eyes sparkling as he teased Kurt and Dave. "Ow!" He jumped suddenly, yelping as he rubbed his ankle. Zarya gave Fedir a warning look as she settled her cane back on the arm of her chair.

"Forgive an old woman's clumsiness, Fedir."

"Of course, Nana." Fedir murmured but he scooted his chair closer to Dina's.

"We're not here because of your clumsiness, Zarya." Eva snapped impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Eva." Paul chided his estranged wife.

"It has come to my attention that Mishka has been involved in an intensive behavioral therapy program."

"Which Paul and I agreed is in _David's_-" Eva emphasized Dave's English name-"-best interest."

Paul glanced quizzically at Dave. "You're still going to those meetings?"

Reluctantly, Dave nodded.

"Evita-" Zarya's voice was deceptively placating.

"I've asked you not to call me that." Eva threw her napkin down, irritated.

"It is a term of endearment, no?"

"Not when you say it."

"Eva, that's enough!" Paul's face reddened, embarrassed.

"I would never presume to interfere with how you raise your children." Zarya sipped her tea before continuing. "As long as they are raised properly, yes?" She paused, considering. "I wonder, since the S.S.A.A. program has worked so well for David, perhaps Kir could be cured as well."

Kir's eyebrows shot up at his grandmother's comment, "Excuse me?"

A look of panic flashed across Eva's face. She took a quick sip of wine to compose herself.

"I don't think so."

"Why ever not?" Zarya persisted, eyes intent on her daughter-in-law.

"Mother, Kir is comfortable with his sexuality. David's counseling wouldn't be appropriate for him." Paul smiled warmly at Kir. "But if Kir relapses then, of course, we'll see that he gets whatever drug rehabilitation he needs."

A heavy silence fell over the table.

"Drugs?" Kir sat back, arms folded tight across his chest as he fixed his mother with a piercing look. "Dad, why exactly do you think I left?"

Paul Karofsky's lips thinned, displeased with the conversation. He sighed heavily before answering.

"You ran off to be with your drug dealer."

"So, that's why you didn't come to my wedding."

"For two years, we never heard from you, Kir."

Eva fidgeted with her necklace, eyes darting nervously around the table. She caught Zarya's stern expression and realized the old woman knew about her deception. Knew about Eva's lies to Paul and had tricked her into revealing them.

"I sent you an invitation. I texted. I left messages." Kir's voice faltered. "I wanted you to walk me down the aisle."

Kurt blinked back tears, understanding Kir's pain. He couldn't imagine not walking down the aisle with his dad at his side.

Kir rubbed the gold band on his left hand. "My so called drug dealer? He's a licensed a pharmacist. He served in the Peace Corps. He volunteers for the crisis hotline." Kir lifted his chin, looking defiantly at Eva. "I could never ask for a better man to be my husband."

Fedir gave Kir a nod of support. "Kir's never done drugs."

"Mom told Kir to leave because he's gay." Dave spoke up because Kir seemed too upset to continue. "She thought he was a bad influence on me." He bowed his head. "And I agreed with her."

"But he doesn't feel that way now." Kurt added hastily.

"The program David's in isn't for counseling, Dad, it's for conversion." Dina finally added her voice to the discussion. "To force him to be straight." She looked apologetically at her brother. "And I'm sorry I had anything to do with it."

Paul's jaw tightened as he turned his attention to Eva.

"Is this true?" He slammed his fist on the table, startling everyone. "You kept me from my son?"

"You have kept yourself from Kir." Zarya spoke quietly, eyes soft with sympathy, knowing how painful it was for her son to hear the truth. "And from the rest of your children. A strong work ethic is a good thing. To a point."

"All things in moderation." Fedir quoted his grandmother's favorite saying.

"Except love." Dina finished.

Zarya smiled agreeably at her grandchildren. "Even so."

Dave squeezed Kurt's hand, a silent gesture of affection. He felt a rush of warmth when Kurt's hand tightened in his.

Zarya continued. "Perhaps Fedir is of an age to assume some of your responsibilities."

Paul nodded. "Yes, of course."

Eva slowly clapped her hands as she stood, turning to face Zarya. "Well-played, Mother Zarya."

Paul grabbed his wife's arm, futilely trying to pull her back down. Eva shrugged him off. She smirked as she took another sip of wine.

"But not quite well enough. David is still a minor. And I am still his mother."

Eva smiled coldly.

"If I want to him to continue the S.S.A.A. program, he will."

"No!" Dave protested, eyes darting helplessly to his dad."

"I'm his father, Eva, I have a say in how he's raised, too."

Eva laughed. She ran her fingers through Paul's hair. He pulled away, disgusted.

"I forgot how adorably naïve you can be. We live in Lima, Ohio, dear. The Midwest. Where judges still believe mothers should have custody of their children when parents divorce."

"Do these same judges not frown on medical malpractice?" Zarya asked.

Eva's smile faded. "What?"

"Mishka-" Kir used Dave's Russian nickname to irk his mother. "-and I had a lovely little chat before you arrived."

Eva sat back down, face pale.

"According to Kyle-_my husband_-" Kir emphasized for Eva's benefit, "-David was prescribed lithium without any kind of medical exam. By a doctor whose license was revoked three years ago." Kir's face hardened. "And it was written on a stolen script pad."

Paul shook his head in disbelief. Eva had kicked one son out for being gay. She had put another on drugs, trying to force him to be straight. She had lied and manipulated and hurt his children in ways he couldn't even imagine.

And he had let her.

"You'll get your divorce." Paul addressed his wife. "On my terms."

"We'll see about that."

Eva stood to leave. As she passed the far end of the table, Zarya spoke.

"Evita."

Eva tensed but paused. "Yes?"

"There is one more thing."

"What?"

Zarya gracefully dabbed her lips with a napkin, taking her time.

"My family was destroyed once. It will not happen again. Never. Again."

The cold threat in Zarya's voice sent Eva hurrying to let herself out.

* * *

After dinner, they retired to the library where Kurt was impressed to see a beautiful samovar and dessert table set up for Russian tea.

"Kurt?"

Paul Karofsky drew his attention.

"Yes, sir?"

"We'll begin the family business meeting as soon as the others arrive. It may last a while. If you like, you're welcome to spend the night here. I have an early flight to catch in the morning but Kir has offered to chaperone you and David."

"Has he?" Kurt glanced over at Kir who winked. "How very thoughtful of him. I'll have to check with dad but yes, thank you, I'd like to stay."

As new people started to arrive, David came to Kurt's side and slipped an arm around his waist knowing he would be nervous. Kurt leaned into his warmth, grateful he was there.

"My aunt, Petra, she's an attorney."

Kurt was struck by the difference between Petra and Eva. They had both worn business suits. But where Eva's clothing was strictly classical-and, he thought privately, too conservative for his taste-Petra's outfit was modern and chic. She entered the room with an air of vibrancy, a middle aged woman at her peak. Petra nodded politely to the boys before greeting Zarya with an affectionate hug and kiss.

"Uncle Peter." Dave nudged Kurt, directing his attention to his dad's twin brother.

Unlike Paul Karofsky, Peter was clean shaven and noticeably heavier with a permanent scowl to his features. He went directly to the dessert table.

He was followed closely by another man whose deep voice filled the library as he called out greetings to his relatives. He was roughly David's height but broader. He seemed to have a smile for everyone as he grabbed Kir and Fedir in each arm and hugged them to his chest then snatched Dina up and planted a loud kiss on her cheek as she laughed.

Kurt cried out as he was snatched up, feet leaving the floor, and hugged until he couldn't breathe.

"Welcome!"

"Aleks, my cousin." Dave said, wiping away tears of laughter.

"I'm Kurt."

The man set Kurt back on his feet and slapped him heartily on the back.

"Good to see a new face here!"

Everyone mingled briefly, making small talk, helping themselves to tea and sweets before drifting over to take their seats at the large conference table. Again, Zarya sat at the head of the table. Her sharp eyes darted around the room, missing nothing.

"Where is Gleb?" She asked Peter pointedly.

"He won't be joining us."

The room fell silent. No one refused Zarya when she called a family meeting.

"Is he ill?"

"No, Mother, he had a previous engagement."

A murmur went around the table.

"I see." Zarya's remarked coolly, obviously displeased with her grandson's absence.

She nodded to Paul who closed the doors and took his seat.

"What's going on?" Kurt whispered to David.

"Gleb, another cousin, didn't show up."

"And that's bad, right?"

"Bad for him."

Zarya addressed the family with a warm smile, not letting Gleb's absence sour the occasion.

"I am pleased to announce we have finalized our contract with De Jaeger regarding their escargot caviar."

Kurt's eyes lit up and he looked at Dave expectantly. "Escargot caviar? Really?"

Dave nodded, amused by Kurt's barely contained excitement. Both of Kurt's hands wrapped around his and Dave could feel his nervous energy.

"The Fauchon stores have already secured the North American and European markets from De Jaeger." Peter scoffed. "Who will you sell to, Mother? The Australians?"

Zarya's eyes narrowed at her son's rudeness. "We contracted for rights, not territory. Karofsky Caviar now holds exclusive, worldwide rights to first refusal of any caviar the De Jaeger farm produces. Fauchon may sell where they will, but we have the right to purchase the caviar first."

"You set yourself up as the middleman." Aleks exclaimed, impressed.

"It was Mishka's idea." Zarya beamed at her grandson.

Kurt squeezed David's arm. "That's wonderful!"

Paul Karofsky raised a glass to toast his son's achievement. "I'm proud of you, David."

"Why would De Jaeger ever agree to such a deal?" Peter interrupted the celebration again.

Zarya held her temper. She had dealt with difficult people before and knew Peter could be temperamental. "They are a small company with no ability to distribute on an international scale." Zarya held her temper They provide the product, Karofsky Caviar provides the distribution. They will have only one company to deal with, not dozens."

Peter persisted in being negative. "If Fauchon refuses to deal with you, you're left with caviar you can't sell anywhere."

"I would not be so certain of that, Peter." Zarya smiled. "De Jaeger's contracts with Fauchon and the other companies do not apply to international waters."

"Cruise ships." Kurt blurted out, quickly catching on to Zarya's plan. "You're going to sell the caviar on cruise ships."

She nodded, pleased to see had grasped the situation so quickly.

"And airlines." David added quietly.

"Is that all?" Peter Karofsky stood to leave. "Are we done?"

"Sit down." Aleks' deep voice rumbled. Peter returned to his chair, sulking.

"Now then-" Zarya templed her fingers together, "-on to more important matters. Petra?"

Petra set her briefcase on the table, opened it and hand a sheaf of papers over to her mother.

Zarya continued.

"When Sergei and I married, we agreed to make certain provisions for our children and grandchildren. When each of you turned 21, we would help you establish yourselves in careers of your choosing. One time. If your interests changed, if you failed to make satisfactory progress towards your goal, you would be on your own."

Dina, Kir and Fedir nodded, they had already benefited from their grandmother's help.

"However, due to certain events which have recently come to my attention, I do not believe it is in David's best interest to wait until he reaches his age of majority. In fact, I am convinced that to do so would affect him adversely."

"Mother-?" Paul glanced from Zarya to his son, confused.

"Effective immediately, I am appointing David Paulovich Karofsky to the position of contracts negotiator for Karofsky Caviar."

A collective gasp went around the table and Kurt felt David's hand trembling in his. He tightened his fingers, silently reassuring and congratulating him.

"Outrageous!" Peter had no hesitation voicing his opinion.

Paul shot him an angry look, furious that his own brother would diminish his son's moment.

"Because you are a minor, you cannot legally enter into binding contracts. However, if you and your father agree, I am willing to act on your behalf until your 18th birthday. After that, I will cede my title and responsibilities to you."

Peter rose again, hands slapping hard against the table. "You're just giving him the company?"

"He was the only one who asked for it." Zarya retorted, her patience wearing thin.

Kurt gripped David's arm, stunned by what he was hearing.

"You asked your grandmother to give you a million dollar company?"

"Why not?" David grinned, eyes shining with amusement. "Worst she could do is say no, right?" He smirked. "And who would say no to the person that just brought in a multi-million dollar contract?"

"Gleb expected to inherit-" Peter began only to be cut off.

"Expectation is not action."

"You know very well-"

"What I know-" Zarya interrupted sharply, "-is that David is here, attending to family business and Gleb is not."

"That's all you have to say?"

"No, Piotr-" Zarya chidingly used his Russian name, "-that is not all I have to say. One, do not raise your voice to me. Two, if Gleb ever calls my grandson or his guest pidar gnoinyj again-"-a gasp of shock went around the table-"I will foreclose on every mortgage, every loan, every line of credit I have ever extended to your family."

"And three-" Paul Karofsky spoke quietly and firmly. "-anyone who disrespects my family isn't welcome here." He stood, walked behind the boys and placed one hand on Dave's shoulder and the other on Kurt's, a silent gesture of protection for them and a warning to his brother. "You've overstayed your visit, Peter. You know the way out."

Peter glanced around the table looking for sympathy and support and found only cold indifference. He stood, nodded briefly to his mother, then left.

"Well done!" Petra raised her glass, toasting Dave with a genuine smile. She had never cared for her nephew Gleb whose abilities were far beneath his overreaching ambitions. "To health, prosperity…" Petra's eyes twinkled as she looked to Kurt. "…and passion."

Dave and Kurt slipped away from the library unnoticed. They stopped in the kitchen to open the escargot caviar and transfer it to a caviar tray before heading upstairs to David's room. Halfway up the steps, Kir stopped them.

"And where might you boys be sneaking off to?"

"It's late, we need to get to bed." Dave stammered.

Kir smirked. "Mm, I bet you do. I'll be up in an hour to check on you two. I expect the door to be unlocked."

"Yeah, sure, of course."

Kir chuckled to himself as he watched the two teenagers hurry up the stairs. He had no intention of interrupting them. But he wasn't about to tell them that.

* * *

As soon as they were inside, Dave quickly locked the door to his bedroom. Kurt set the caviar tray down and looked over expectantly.

"Now what?"

The taller boy sauntered over to the table, long fingers tracing the edge of the tray.

"You know…" David carefully spooned the caviar onto the crescent of skin between his thumb and forefinger. "…some connoisseurs say that the best way to experience caviar is to taste it from the skin."

He offered his hand to Kurt. Kurt's pulse quickened, remembering their moment in Zakuski when a taste of caviar had moved them into a more intimate relationship. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, knowing those glowing, hazel eyes were watching. Kurt steadied David's hand with his.

Kurt's breath danced across Dave's skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. When Kurt's tongue followed, darting tentatively out to sweep across the caviar, he shivered. Kurt's fingers pressed into David's wrist. His mouth fastened onto the soft, fleshy base, nibbling away at the complex, earthy caviar before drawing his thumb into his mouth and sucking it.

David's eyes smoldered.

"My turn."

Kurt lifted his hand, expecting Dave to spoon the caviar between his thumb and forefinger. Instead, Karofsky set the caviar down. He took Kurt's hands in his, playfully backing him towards the bed.

"Lay down."

Kurt giggled. "What are you doing?"

Dave grinned. "Don't you trust me?"

Kurt's legs bumped against the mattress. "Should I?"

Still, he let Dave lean him back onto the bed, scooting over so he could climb in next to him. He grabbed the pillows, fluffed them up then guided Kurt down. He traced his fingers across Kurt's forehead then down to caress his cheek, his lips ghosting over Kurt's.

"You're beautiful, babe." He kissed Kurt's nose. "Perfect."

Kurt blushed, lost in the open admiration glowing in Dave's deep green eyes. He couldn't help staring. Dave's eyes seemed to change colors as often as Kurt's. Tonight, they were a shade of olive he had never seen before.

Dave unzipped Kurt's sweater, fingers skimming the t-shirt underneath as the fabric separated. He spread the collar farther apart, exposing his throat.

Carefully, Dave placed one pearly, translucent egg in the curve of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt giggled, squirming a little as the cold caviar touched his skin.

"Hold still!" Dave admonished with a laugh.

"It's cold!"

"It won't be for long."

He placed another single egg on Kurt's skin, just below the first one. Kurt sighed as David continued. Each piece of caviar was like a tiny ice cube at his throat. Before long, there was a delicate trail of caviar laid out.

Dave flicked the first egg into his mouth, tongue darting quickly against Kurt's skin before pulling away. He blew a soft puff of air across Kurt's throat, causing his pulse to quicken at the contrast of cold and warmth. Kurt shuddered, gasping as his eyelids fluttered closed, then shivered again when David's mouth, warm and wet, worked against his skin.

David nibbled the second egg from Kurt's collarbone, drawing a low, throaty moan from him. He held the caviar in his mouth, savoring the earthy flavor mixed with the slight saltiness of his lover. He glanced up to see the flush of desire pinken Kurt's cheeks.

Kurt slid his fingers through the football jock's hair, tugging him back down for a kiss. Dave tongued and sucked his way back down to the caviar, eager to finish off the food and move on to Kurt's body. Kurt whimpered, shifting his hips. Mindlessly, Dave rolled over to straddle him.

When Dave settled on top of him, Kurt moaned again, long and drawn out, fingers digging into his biceps as the taller boy's hard-on pressed against his own.

"…you okay?…" Dave hesitated, not sure if the noises Kurt was making were good or bad.

"…nnghhh…" Kurt was having a hard time concentrating enough to form words but he nodded his head, hoping that was enough reassurance for David to continue.

Dave worked his hand under Kurt's t-shirt, fingers finding their way to his hard nipples and circling his thumbs around them. He pulled his hands out so he could move Kurt's sweater aside. Then, he had both hands back under the shirt, pushing it up, baring the slender boy's smooth, pale chest.

Dave leaned back on his knees, wanting to remember this moment. The way Kurt was stretched out beneath him. The breathless little gasps he was making. Those hands still gripping his arms. He locked eyes with Kurt.

"Sure you're okay?"

Kurt sat up on his elbows, raising up just enough to suckle the hollow of David's throat.

"Actually, no."

David blinked, dazed from Kurt's kiss, as the words sank in. "No?"

Kurt ran a finger down his boyfriend's chest.

"I'm practically naked. You're not." He grabbed the hem of Karofsky's sweater and tugged it upwards. "Clothes off, loverboy." Kurt said, hoping he sounded flirty.

Karofsky crossed his arms, eyes gleaming with a challenge as his hips and thighs kept Kurt pinned to the bed.

"Make me."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, intrigued…and more than a little aroused.

"Fine." Kurt's hands dropped from David's shoulders. "We'll do things your way."

He reached down, undid Karofsky's buckle and began working his belt loose. David's breath hitched as Kurt drew the leather through the loops. He unsnapped David's jeans. The back of his fingers brushed down the zipper.

David threw his head back with a groan. "…fuck…you're killin' me here…"

"Am I?" Kurt tried to look wide eyed and innocent as he slipped his hand inside to David's briefs, nudging the zipper down so he had more access. Kurt's eyes drifted closed as he felt Dave, warm and hard, pulsing against the palm of his hand.

"Pity you weren't willing to get naked for this." Kurt whispered huskily.

That was all it took for David to strip off his sweater and throw it away, not caring where it landed. He froze. He really wanted to be naked with Kurt. But he also really liked where Kurt's hand was at the moment. He licked his lips, undecided.

Mischievously, Kurt tightened his fingers. "Problem?"

Dave bucked into Kurt's grip, making a strangled sound in his throat. He jumped off the bed, toed of his shoes and socks and quickly shrugged out of his pants and underwear-nearly tripping in the process.

Kurt laughed, delighted at the effect he had on Karofsky. Then sighed happily at the effect David's naked body was having on him. He rolled onto his side, taking his time to admire every inch of the football jock.

"What?"

"I made you take your clothes off." Kurt smirked triumphantly. "I win."

Dave's lips curved into a grin, hazel eyes amused. "Is that right?"

Kurt sat up. "The person with the most clothes on wins." He gestured towards Dave and then towards himself.

"Game's not over yet."

Dave growled as he pounced onto the bed and Kurt. Kurt yelped as he was bounced into the air. Reflexively, he threw his arms around Dave's neck to catch himself. He buried his head in the curve of Dave's shoulder, shaking with laughter.

Dave's hand were on Kurt again, rough with need, pushing the sweater down his arms and off and then yanking his t-shirt off in one awkward movement.

"Hey!" Kurt huffed as he smoothed his ruffled hair. "You messed up my hair."

David pressed Kurt down to the bed again. "Aw, are you mad?" He teased.

"I probably look like a squirrel caught in an electric fence." He ran another hand over his hair.

"Or a chipmunk." Dave puffed his cheeks out.

Kurt crossed his arms and laid back on the pillows, pouting.

"I believe I am mad at you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Mm."

David straddled Kurt's waist, then carefully laid his hands flat against Kurt's chest and settled his chin over them, his penis curving against Kurt's abdomen. He looked up with his best puppy dog eyes.

"Zamboner's feeling neglected."

"I don't care." But Kurt's lips twitched, trying not to smile.

"D.G. can't come out and play?"

Kurt frowned. "D.G.?"

Dave slid his hand to Kurt's crotch. His eyes widened , suddenly understanding.

"You named my-?"

The hazel eyed boy smiled. "Someone had to."

"My body parts have perfectly fine names. Arm. Leg."

"Penis." Karofsky supplied helpfully.

Kurt was silent for a moment but his curiosity got the better of him.

"I assume D. G. doesn't stand for Dolce & Gabbana."

"Nope." David pressed his cheek to Kurt's chest, fingers wandering over to idly toy with his nipple.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "What then?"

"Defying Gravity."

Kurt sputtered, not sure if he should be incredibly offended or incredibly flattered. David kissed and licked a path down his navel, singing softly, breath vibrating in a warm tickle against his skin.

"…think I'll try defying gravity…"

Kurt cracked a smile, then giggled, then doubled over laughing-as much as he could with his body still held captive between Dave and the bed.

"Oh, my God, stop! Stop! I can't breathe!"

He gasped between fits of laughter, slapping futilely at the well muscled chest.

"You, sir, are a horrible, horrible person."

"And you…" Dave wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "…aren't nearly as naked as you should be."

"Mmm…" Kurt rubbed his hips against him, drawing a groan from the other boy. "I could possibly be persuaded to forego the rest of my clothing."

"…how?…" David murmured distractedly, more interested in sucking the soft spot behind Kurt's ear.

"I want to be on top." Kurt blurted out in a nervous rush.

There was only a second's hesitation before Kurt was grabbed up, yelping in surprise, rolled over and his position reversed so that he was straddling David.

Dave closed his eyes, heart hammering in his chest, hands tightening on that perfect little ass bouncing against his dick.

Fuck.

"Lose the jeans. Now." He growled softly, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the depths of those blue eyes while Kurt rode him, grinding against him, thighs squeezing tight against his.

Kurt unfastened his pants, shimmying and wriggling as he tugged the skin tight fabric down to his knees…and stopped, overwhelmed at the sensation of being partially undressed, his lover's fingers digging into his skin and the delicious friction of their bodies rolling against each other.

"…oh…god…"

"…kurt…fuck…hurry!"

"…lube…"

David blinked, refocusing long enough to realize Kurt hadn't taken his pants off.

"Your clothes-"

"…lube, damn it!…"

David fumbled a hand backwards to the table, knocked some change to the floor and finally came up with the tube he was searching for. Kurt grabbed it from him and, after squirting it between them, snapped the lid shut and tossed it in the general direction of the night stand, not caring if it landed there or not.

They melded together, quickly finding a position and rhythm that suited them both, words giving way to deep throated moans as they came, Kurt driving into David, pressing hard against him as he locked his legs around Kurt's waist.

Spent, Kurt nuzzled sleepily against his lover, one hand curling against his chest, the other slipping into David's hand.

"…mishka…"


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This has been a rough year for me and I just had some more bad news last week. But every time I see one of your reviews or a comment on tumblr, it really lifts my spirits. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews for Chapter 22! And thank you so much for your overall support of "Paragraph 175".**

**Warning: Strong language, racial, ethnic, cultural slurs and violence.**

**Tiger's head tattoo-anti-law enforcement symbol.**

"**Pinche perro"-Mexican slang for "fucking dog" or "filthy dog".**

**The Erie St. Cemetery really exists. If you google it, you can probably find a photo of the freestanding mausoleum I had in mind when I wrote that section. I was also inspired by a cemetery from my childhood that had a small row of mausoleums set into the hill on either side of the road.**

PART 23

Gleb Karofsky flicked cigarette ashes on the floor as he passed the "No Smoking" sign posted in the lobby of the Allen County Sheriff's Department. He walked up to the deputy behind Window 3 and blew a puff of smoke through the metal grate separating them. The officer noted Gleb's spiked, bleached blonde hair and caught a glimpse of a tiger's head tattoo under his open collar.

"No smoking in the building."

Gleb drew on the cigarette again, amused, and answered in Russian, hoping to annoy him further. Unfortunately, the deputy understood every word and fluently repeated the no smoking rule to Gleb in Russian. He extinguished the lit cigarette on the back of his own hand, laughing at the deputy's startled expression. He sighed at the brief thrill of pain that shot through his nerves.

"Satisfied?"

The deputy glared, realizing that Gleb spoke English without any problems.

"You here to post bail?"

Gleb glanced mockingly at the sign next to the window which clearly read, "Window 3. Bail Payments." He bit back a sarcastic response. He had wasted enough time here when he should have been at Nana Zarya's meeting. He looked at his watch. It was probably over by now. He'd check in with his dad and see if making an apologetically late appearance would do any good. Gleb frowned. His grandmother loved to hold grudges.

"Yes, I'm here to post bail."

He gave Luke and Zimmerman's information to the deputy, paid their bonds with his credit card then took a seat to wait for their releases to be processed. While he waited, he sent a text message to his dad. A reply came quickly. Karofsky Caviar had been given to his cousin. Gleb read the text in disbelief.

A second deputy led Luke and Zee out of lockup and into the main lobby. They strutted across the floor laughing and playfully punching each other's arms but grew quiet when they saw Gleb's scowl.

Luke looked around expectantly. "You got our bros, too, right?"

Gleb eyed him coolly.

"Your bros?"

"Junior and Joe Terrell."Gleb scoffed and stood to leave. Luke grabbed his arm and was roughly shrugged off.

"We have work to do.""No." Luke stopped, forcing Zee to stop as well. "We don't leave without them."

Gleb pulled out his pack of Sobranie Black Russian cigarettes as he walked towards the exit.

"Enjoy your stay."

"We need them to go after Karofsky." Luke hissed under his breath, making sure no one could overhear.

Gleb paused, remembering his dad's text. Karofsky Caviar given to his cousin. His lips thinned in a tight, angry line. He wanted Mishka to hurt for taking the company he should have inherited. And he knew just what would cause the most pain.

"What about the other one?"

"Kurt Hummel? The tire guy's kid?"

"Yes." Gleb's voice hardened.

"That little fag's screams will fucking own youtube." Luke said. "If you get the double jays out."

"Good."

Smiling, Gleb walked back to Window 3.

When David woke two hours later, Kurt was tucked under his arm, snuggling against his side with one leg still possessively straddling his thighs. He eased out from underneath his sleeping boyfriend, trying not to disturb him. Kurt snuffled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Dave chuckled softly at the way Kurt's hair was sticking up. It was an effort, but he managed to tug the skin tight designer jeans off and set them aside. He padded to his bathroom, cleaned himself up then came back with a damp washcloth to take care of Kurt.

"I'm gonna take you to every city you ever dreamed of."

He spoke softly, voice as gentle as his hands as they moved over his lover's body.

"Paris." Dave kissed Kurt's brow. "Madrid." Grazed his jaw. "Venice." Brushed the hollow of his throat causing him to giggle in his sleep. He set the towel and washcloth on his nightstand and turned over to wrap his arms around Kurt. "I'm gonna feed you all day-", he whispered huskily, "-and fuck you all night."

Kurt sighed happily, rubbing his cheek into the taller boy's shoulder. His eyes fluttered open drowsily.

"Moscow?"

Dave stilled, not quite believing he had heard correctly. But then Kurt rolled onto his side, taking the covers with him and scooting his butt against the warmth of the jock's belly.

Dave waited until he was sure Kurt had fallen back to sleep then threw on some sweats and took his clothes down to the laundry room. He started the washer. Several minutes later, as he started dozing off, he was startled awake when Zarya walked in. She handed him a cup of hot chocolate and gracefully settled into the other chair with her own cup. Dave couldn't help grinning at the extra marshmallows and hint of peppermint his grandmother always added.

"I have been thinking.

David licked the marshmallow mustache off his lips. "About-?"

"Kurt Hummel."

"I love him."

Zarya raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you have hardly been subtle on that point, Mishka."

David ducked his head, hiding the blush he felt warming his face.

"As to Kurt…the button is well sewn."

Hearing this, he grinned. It was a traditional saying in their family, the matriarch's way of giving her blessing to a potential couple.

"Thank you, Nana."

She cupped his chin affectionately. "See to it that you do a proper job of courting your young man, yes?"

"Already working on it."

"Good." She sipped her cocoa. "Dina would like the two of you to come back to Zakuski for dinner. Sooner rather than later, I think." Zarya added as an afterthought, wanting to see any lingering unpleasantness between her grandchildren mended quickly.

"Some of my…friends…would like to come, too."

"Excellent." She dabbed a napkin to her lips. "We will make a proper celebration of it. Perhaps we will be raising our glasses to you and your new beau then as well." She fixed her grandson with an unwavering gaze. "This would please me very much."

"Nana, I have to ask his dad first."

Zarya nodded. "Of course."

Dave fidgeted, rubbing his palms on his sweatpants. "He might say no."

Nana Zarya scoffed as she stood to leave. "As if." She laughed softly to herself as she walked out, considering the idea of her grandson being turned down ridiculous.

David smiled at his grandmother's confidence in him. He finished washing and drying Kurt's outfit, took it back upstairs and carefully hung the pants and shirt up where they wouldn't wrinkle. Satisfied, he curled back under the covers next to Kurt.

Dave stirred, vaguely aware of Kurt burrowed into his side again-it seemed to be his favorite position-as he sleepily stroked his fingers along the back of his neck. Kurt was content to wake slowly, enjoying the display of light and shadow dancing across those olive and bronze colored eyes, with a rare flash of gold when he tilted his head down for a "good morning" kiss.

A second, less chaste kiss followed. Before they could go any further, a sharp knock at the door interrupted, followed by Kir's voice warning them they would be late for school. David, irritated, answered in Russian. Kir laughed. Kurt didn't understand his reply but whatever his answer had been had Dave jumping out of bed, tearing the door open and running down the hall after his brother. He came back, slamming the door behind him and wiping at the water that had been splashed in his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Kir's being an ass. I told him we needed the hall bathroom to get ready for school. He said we'd save time if we shared my shower."

Kurt watched , fascinated, as the water beaded in David's chest hair like little diamonds then trickled down to his belly. He uncurled from the bed and sauntered over to the taller boy, eyes glowing mischievously, voice playfully sultry.

"Your brother suggested we lather each other's naked bodies while standing under steaming hot water?" His lips quirked in a smile. "That bitch!"

He took Dave's hand in his and tugged him towards the bathroom.

It took a second warning from Kir before Kurt and Dave, blushing as they walked in, joined the rest of the family for breakfast. Kurt took a seat next to Fedir.

"Nice shirt."

Kurt's brows furrowed, puzzled by his comment. "You saw it yesterday."

"Yes, but I didn't appreciate how well sewn the buttons are."

"Fedir…" Dave, suddenly understanding where the conversation was going, growled a soft warning under his breath.

Fedir grinned. "Dina, have you noticed Kurt's shirt?"

Smiling, Dina brought plates of scrambled eggs and bacon to the table.

"I did, not a loose thread anywhere. Kir, what would you say?"

Kir smirked. "I say the button is well sewn." His eyes sparkled as he turned to Nana Zarya. "But Nana would know better than any of us. What do you think, Nana Zarya?"

Zarya fought back a smile at her grandchildren's teasing.

"I have already given Mishka my opinion."

"And-?" Kir pressed for an answer.

"And even an insolent child such as yourself can see the button is well sewn."

Fedir let out a delighted whoop. He gave Kurt a fierce, one-armed hug and held his other hand out to Kir. "Told you she'd say it. Pay up!"

Kir and Dina rolled their eyes but both handed over the amount they'd wagered. Kurt used the distraction to lean in and whisper to David.

"Saying 'the button is well sewn'…is that a euphemism for sex?"

"No!" Dave blurted out, embarrassed that Kurt might think his family would discuss their relationship that openly. He put a protective arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "It's a traditional saying in the Karofsky family. It means Nana approves of us dating."

Dating.

Kurt squeezed Dave's knee under the table.

"So…" He couldn't keep the pleased smile from his face. "…we're dating now?"

Dave took his arm from Kurt's shoulders and looked away.

"I still have to ask your dad."

Kurt pulled out his phone and was pressing speed dial when Dave reached over and disconnected the call.

"Not yet."

"I see." Kurt took his hand from David's knee. He quickly tried to smooth over the awkward moment. "I'm curious about something, Nana Zarya."

"Yes, Kurt?"

"If you didn't approve of us, what would you have said?"

"If there are problems with a match but there is still potential, one says the thread will break. It is an indication that the relationship needs improvement to be acceptable."

"And if you really disapproved?"

"The garment is ruined."

Kurt considered. "That doesn't seem so bad."

"You have to look at it historically." David took over the explanation. "It took a lot of time and work to make, dye, cut and sew fabric. And some material-like silk-was imported. Losing a garment because of carelessness was a serious financial setback to a tailor or seamstress."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Traditionally-" Dina brought a pitcher of orange juice to the table and joined the others. "-anyone coming into the Karofsky family was expected to help with the family business."

"Tailoring." Kir added.

"They literally had to be able to sew on a button. A fairly simple task."

Zarya finished the explanation. "The test was meant to symbolize his or her willingness to learn our ways and to keep our traditions."

Kurt was moved by the pride in their eyes as they each told part of the story.

"It's a lovely tradition. Thank you for including me."

Word spread quickly through New Directions about the celebration dinner at Zakuski. Kurt was busy tweeting fashion advice to Rachel and Mercedes while Dave was bombarded with food questions from the guys. They crowded together at the lunch table, excitedly talking over each other.

No one noticed the silence between Kurt and Dave. They weren't fighting, not exactly, but they were at an impasse. David understood Kurt's unhappiness. He saw the whispered conversations between Kurt and Mercedes and couldn't miss the warning looks she gave him. Seeing Kurt's smile was worse. He had gone back to his carefully neutral, pleasant face to hide his disappointment.

There were times Dave was tempted to lean across the table, in front of everyone, and kiss him but he resisted. Kurt deserved better. Dave thought of what he had planned and smiled to himself, hoping Kurt would be pleased.

Eventually, the big day arrived. They all agreed to meet at the school before making the three hour drive to Cleveland. As usual, everyone seemed to naturally pair off into couples, leaving Mercedes standing awkwardly with Kurt. He didn't miss the way she looked at the others and couldn't believe he hadn't thought to make sure she had a date.

At that moment, Dave arrived, smoothly pulling Gruff into an empty spot and revving the engine a little just to annoy Puck. Kurt linked his arm with Mercedes' and they walked over. To his surprise, Fedir came out of the car first. He flashed Mercedes a warm, genuine smile then presented her with a wrist corsage. Shyly, Mercedes held out her arm so he could slip it on for her.

Fedir glanced back to his brother.

"You told me she was lovely. Liar. She is beautiful!" He looked at Mercedes appreciatively. "Your eyes shine brighter than the evening star." He held his arm out to her and, giggling, she took it and allowed him to walk her to the car.

Kurt watched the exchange dumbfounded.

"Did you know about this?" He asked Dave, almost accusatory.

He shrugged. "I told her Fedir would like to take her if she was free."

Any hurt and disappointment Kurt had felt towards Dave faded, replaced with a warm, happy glow. He had cared enough about Kurt and his friends to make sure they would all enjoy themselves, even thinking of Mercedes when he hadn't. For the first time in several days, Kurt smiled at David.

Dina greeted everyone as they arrived at Zakuski and her husband, Toma, checked their coats. Inside, the restaurant glowed with candlelit tables. David's aunt, Petra, and cousin, Aleks, were visiting with Zarya at the head table.

Kurt glimpsed Kir setting up dishes in the banquet room. A man he didn't recognize, with wheat colored hair and dark brown eyes, slipped an arm around Kir's waist and coaxed him into the dining area to mingle with the guests. Probably Kir's husband, Kyle. It was cute the way they flirted with each other. Kurt sighed, wondering if he and Dave would ever be openly affectionate like Kir and Kyle.

He looked around the room and spotted his dad…sitting with Coach Beiste. The looked comfortable together. Especially when Burt reached over , squeezed her hand and didn't let go afterwards. Their laughter spilled across the room.

Kurt caught up with Dave as he waited to greet Nana Zarya. They were the last of the McKinley High students to reach her table. David gave his grandmother the usual greeting, a kiss on each cheek, and thanked her and Dina for inviting his friends. He stepped aside so Kurt could pay his respects.

"I have something for you, Nana." Kurt's eyes shone, anxious to see her reaction.

"Is that so?"

Kurt nervously bit his lip as he handed her a small present. Zarya unwrapped a petite Russian lacquer box and took a moment to admire the delicate, brightly painted figures.

"The Firebird, my favorite folktale."

Kurt gave an affectionate, sidelong glance at his boyfriend. "I know, David told me."

She opened the box and chuckled softly when she saw what was inside. Kurt had taken one of Klaus' carved steel buttons-the gosling-from his vest and carefully sewn it to a small piece of dark green wool. He had surrounded it with decorative buttonhole stitching and Zarya smiled at that extra touch.

"So, it appears you have learned a thing or two of our craft. " She blinked back tears, moved by his gesture. "Thank you, Kurt."

He blushed, feeling he had truly earned Zarya's blessing now.

She handed the sewing sample to David. He turned it over in his hands, expressing his admiration and surprise at Kurt's skill with a needle.

Zarya waited until everyone was seated before looking pointedly at David. He licked his lips as he left Kurt's side and went to the middle of the room to address everyone.

"Thanks for coming. Before we get started, I'd like to say a few words."

The color had gone out of David's face and Kurt grew concerned that he might be ill.

"Our family has a tradition." His eyes flicked to Zarya. "A tradition my grandmother has insisted I follow or she'll disown me." He waited for the laughter to subside. "But when you meet someone special-someone who deserves to be courted-" He met Kurt's eyes briefly, silently acknowledging their long ago discussion in the locker room. "-then I can't think of a better way to honor that person than by following tradition."

Kurt and Mercedes both gasped, each excitedly grabbing the other's arm tightly. Dave turned to address Burt Hummel and a stunned hush fell over the rest of New Directions.

"If you approve of the presents I've brought-"

"Presents?" Kurt's eyes lit up.

"-I'd like permission to start dating your son."

Kurt jumped up, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Dave bit back a smile at his outburst, trying to remain serious.

Burt Hummel took his time, rubbing his chin and giving Dave Karofsky a slow, thorough once over as he considered the teenager's request. "You wanna date my son?"

"Yes!" Kurt interrupted again, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yes, sir."

Burt glanced over at Kurt and couldn't resist teasing the boys.

"Which one, Kurt or Finn?"

"Dad!" Kurt shot Burt an offended look. Finn turned red.

David sputtered. "While I'm sure Finn has his merits-" He looked over fondly at the blue eyed boy he had fallen in love with, "-I'm here to ask for Kurt's hand."

"I told you in the shop how I feel about you and Kurt dating."

Dave nodded. "I know." He laced his fingers through Kurt's. "Nothing would make me prouder than to walk through McKinley with your son as my boyfriend." He hesitated. "And…and maybe one day to have him as my husband."

Kurt cried out then threw himself hard against David's chest, wrapping his arms tight around his waist. Burt watched, noting the gentle but protective way Karofsky held his son. He didn't hear what was said, but whatever it was had Kurt blushing and pulling away with a quiet giggle. The boys shared a private look. It reminded Burt of the knowing way Elizabeth used to look at him.

Burt coughed loudly, interrupting them. "So, let's see what kinda presents you got."

Dave nodded as he brought over a plate of food, uncovered it and set it in front of Burt.

"Smells good."

Kurt looked worried. "David, his heart, he needs to watch what he eats."

"I know."

Burt eyed the sandwich. It looked like barbecue. It smelled like barbecue. Hell, it smelled like the best barbecue in the world. He took a bite, made a noise of approval, then took another big bite out of the sandwich.

Grinning, Dave handed the recipe to Kurt who took one look at it, then at his dad.

"Dad, do you like it?"

"Hell, yeah!" He looked sadly at the nearly finished sandwich. "Kinda wish I had another one now." Kurt snickered. "Why? What is it?"

"Salmon."

"No way."

"Barbecued salmon."

Burt shook his head, laughing. "Kiddo, you fix me salmon like that and I'll eat it every night."

"Well-" Kurt beamed at Dave. "-thanks to my soon to be official boyfriend-" Kurt waved the recipe card triumphantly. "-I have the recipe for it."

"Not so fast."

Kurt's face fell as Burt set the empty plate aside and became serious again.

"What'd you bring for Kurt?"

On cue, Kir brought out a garment box and handed it to David who laid it on a chair in front of Kurt and opened it. Kurt's eyes widened when he saw the designer label.

"…denis simachev…?"

He looked at David with wonder then back to the suit jacket in the box, finally daring to reach out and stroke the luxurious fabric. There was a subtle sheen to the blue fabric that hinted at green undertones, the colors as elusive and changeable as Kurt's eyes. Dave took the jacket from the box and held it for Kurt as he slipped it on.

"It fits!"

Dave laughed. "It should, I tailored it for you."

"You never took my measurements."

"No-" His eyes twinkled secretively. "-you never saw me take your measurements."

"Dad-", Kurt faced Burt. "-I will be dating this boy."

"No, you won't." David spoke up quickly, hating the hurt, disappointed look that crossed Kurt's face. "Not unless your dad approves." He caressed Kurt's jaw, letting his thumb brush lovingly across his lower lip. "Babe…I'm not gonna come out of the closet just to hide our relationship from your dad. If he objects, I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to win him over." He kissed him lightly. "And then we'll be together. In public. And the whole fucking world is gonna know it."

Burt Hummel didn't doubt Dave's feelings for his son. He didn't doubt that Karofsky would work hard and give Kurt everything he needed. The only reservation he'd had was whether or not Dave would be able to stand up to Kurt when he needed to. Burt nodded to himself, satisfied. Karofsky had just proven that he could-and would-take a stand against Kurt if he thought it was necessary. And, just as importantly, that he would consider what Burt wanted for his son.

He rose to his feet slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyed Kurt and Dave. It felt like everyone in the room was holding his breath, waiting, expectant.

"Kurt, you're a young man now but you will always be my boy."

Kurt nodded, hearing the rough affection in his dad's voice, knowing how hard it was for him to let go.

Burt held his hand out to Dave. "You take care of him."

David accepted the handshake solemnly. "To my last breath."

He turned to Kurt, cupped one hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a deep, lingering kiss.

Mercedes was the first one to her feet, clapping and whistling loudly, followed quickly by the rest of the stunned but enthusiastic New Directions cheering their approval.

After Dave and Kurt officially became a couple, the rest of the evening was an explosion of celebration with good food, glowing candlelight and loud laughter filling Zakuski. Kir introduced his husband Kyle and, after dinner and socializing, they excused themselves on the pretense of checking refreshments in the storeroom. Burt and Toma, in spite of Kurt's objections, started arm wrestling. It wasn't long before Lauren and Coach Beiste started their own match. And then, jokingly, Fedir challenged Aleks who good naturedly agreed.

After the arm wrestling, Toma and Aleks left to check on Tanya who had been left at home with a babysitter. Fedir and Dina brought out a karaoke machine and Petra surprised everyone by being the first to sing. Dave, even with Nana Zarya's urging, refused, preferring instead to watch Kurt, Mercedes and Tina cut loose. Soon enough, Rachel took over and challenged everyone to a boys versus girls singing competition.

Amid the cheers and teasing before the contest got underway, only Dina heard the insistent knocking at the front door. She answered it then quickly came back, upset. She saw Dave and Kurt serving tea to Nana Zarya and approached them.

"Gleb's at the door. He says he wants to apologize to David."

Zarya's eyes flicked to her grandson. "It is your decision, Mishka."

David ran his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand, thinking through his options.

"I know what it means to be given a second chance." He brought Kurt's hand to his lips, kissed it then gave it a quick squeeze. "Especially when you don't deserve it." He held Kurt's eyes for a long moment. "You okay with inviting him in?"

"If he apologizes to you-" Kurt stressed, "-then yes, he can stay."

"If he apologizes to us and Nana." Dave nodded, agreeing. "Let him in, Dina."

Dina left. A moment later, she returned with Gleb close behind. As they entered the room, he shoved her aside, walked immediately to Zarya and pulled a gun on her. A gasp went around the room. Gleb whistled sharply. Luke, Zimmerman, the Terrell brothers and two girls swarmed into the restaurant.

Burt move protectively towards Kurt. Beiste mirrored his actions, moving to Dave's side.

The Terrell brothers ran towards the kitchen but Finn, Mike and Sam charged forward to intercept them.

In the beverage storage room, Kir and Kyle laid down on a makeshift pallet of empty crates. Kir snuffled softly into his husband's shoulder. Kyle had been gone for a week and returned just in time for Dave's celebration.

"I am happy for Mishka." Kir sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"I know."

"But…"

Kyle tilted Kir's face to meet his.

"But you wanted to parade me around, have everyone fawn all over me and welcome me into the family with a big celebration…like they're doing for Kurt and David."

"Does that make me a bad brother?"

Kyle brushed a tear from Kir's cheek then kissed it.

"No." He couldn't resist teasing. "A jealous brother, yes, but not a bad one."

He chuckled and Kir leaned in to that warm, rumbling vibration, feeling reassured.

"Did you hear something?"

Kir grinned. "Sounds like Aleks is winning again."

"Mm." Kyle licked the hollow of Kir's throat.

A crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by gunshots and shouting. They both froze. Kir started to get up but Kyle pulled him back down, covering his mouth and frantically whispering "Shh!" in his ear.

In the women's restroom, Mercedes was freshening her lipstick while Rachel and Lauren teased her about all the attention Fedir had been showing her that evening. Mercedes smiled shyly. David's older brother was sexy in a scruffy, boy next door way. And when he said something in Russian, then playfully winked and smiled, showing off those impish dimples…Mercedes shivered. It was only harmless flirting but for one night, Fedir Karofsky made her feel like a queen.

Petra ran in suddenly, startling them. She shut the door behind her, pulled a chair over to the door and blocked it as well as she could. Then she ran to the other side of the room and worked on getting the window to budge open.

"Girls, we have to get you out of here-now!"

Rachel looked worriedly to the door. "What about Finn?"

"And the rest of our friends?" Mercedes added.

Something crashed hard against the door. Lauren sat in the chair, bracing her feet against the floor to keep the door closed.

"Listen to me!" Petra was calm but firm. "There are men with guns out there." She struggled again to open the window. "You can't help anyone if you're taken hostage."

Rachel considered, then nodded, adding her strength to Petra's and managing to lift the window an inch.

Meanwhile, Mercedes joined Lauren to hold the door. They heard Finn and Sam shouting and then the sound of several people going by. A moment later, someone knocked urgently on the door.

"Open up, it's Puck!"

Lauren recognized her boyfriend's voice and immediately her and Mercedes opened the door to let him in. Puck scanned the room, quickly sized up the situation and ran over to help Petra and Rachel with the window.

"Not today, bitches!" Lauren yelled as two girls with knives forced their way into the restroom. She used the chair to pin one of the girls to the wall. Mercedes tried to fight off the second one but had to back away to avoid being cut. Digging in her purse, Rachel found her bottle of organic peppermint throat spray, aimed it at Mercedes' attacker and squirted her in the eyes.

Giving up on the window, Petra wrapped her arms around the girls and urged them out the door. She glanced back towards Puck who had put himself between them and the two armed girls.

"I got this-go!"

Petra herded Rachel, Mercedes and Lauren towards the kitchen and the rear emergency exit but they were forced back when the fight between Sam, Finn, Mike and the Terrell brothers started spilling out from the kitchen and into the corridor. They had no choice but to turn around and go back into the main dining room.

Fedir, with the first aid kit, met up with Petra to check on any injuries the girls might have. He put a reassuring arm around Mercedes and tried to lead her off to the side out of harm's way. But she resisted, offering instead to help him with the wounded.

Artie wheeled protectively in front of Tina and Brittany as Luke and Zimmerman grabbed for their cell phones.

"Back off!"

He slammed his chair hard against Luke, driving him back, then turned sharply, reared back, balancing on two wheels-and let the front of his wheelchair drop, crashing painfully onto Zimmerman's foot.

"Fuck you, crip!"

Luke grabbed the handles of Artie's wheelchair, yanked it back once, then overturned it, spilling Artie onto the floor.

"You wanna be a hero? Let's see what you can do now." He grinned. "Sir Limps-a-lot!"

He turned back to the girls, surprised to see Santana had joined them. He eyed the three coldly and cracked his knuckles, laughing.

"A spic, a chink and a retard. Nice."

Zimmerman, limping but back on his feet, lunged for Santana, succeeding in grabbing a handful of her hair and twisting her head back painfully. A second later, he yelped and drew his hand, bleeding, away quickly.

"What the fuck-?"

"Razors." Santana sneered. "All up in my hair."

Zimmerman came back, tackling her into a table.

"Pinche perro!" Santana smacked her palm against his face.

"Leave her alone!" Brittany yelled, shoving against Zee to try to get him away from Santana.

Luke grabbed Brittany's ponytail, spinning her around and pulling his fist back to punch her. Tina, who had been checking on Artie, put her arms around Brittany's waist and pulled her down to safety. Furious, Luke snapped his fist forward, catching Tina full in the jaw and knocking her unconscious. Brittany grabbed Tina and scooted them both to relative safety behind an overturned table.

Artie, still on the floor, grabbed Luke's ankle and bit into it. More yelling. More cussing. The restaurant was chaos. Nothing was going as smoothly as Gleb had promised it would and Luke was getting pissed off.

Returning to the dining room, Rachel watched, horrified, as the man with the buzzed red hair lifted Artie's wheelchair and began to swing it down towards him. She ran over but was too late. The chair struck Artie, sending his glasses skittering across the floor and a spray of blood across his shirt as he fell back, eyes closed, body limp. The follow through of the swing struck Rachel's face. She gave a muffled cry as her hand went to her nose and came away streaked with red.

The Terrell brothers, guns in hand, forced not only the kitchen staff but also Finn, Mike and Sam to return to the middle of the restaurant. Sam, bloodied and dazed, leaned heavily on Mike's shoulders. Seeing that Rachel was bleeding, Finn went over to check on her.

Carefully, Kir and Kyle came out of the storage room and were stunned by the devastation in the kitchen. Kyle stepped around the broken dishes and spilled food to check on a waitress who lay in a pool of blood on the floor. He checked for a pulse, then glanced at Kir and shook his head. Kir went back into the storage room, found a clean, white tablecloth and draped it over the dead body.

Kir saw Puck laying in the corridor. "There are more people who are hurt."

Kyle nodded. "We have to help them."

They went to Puck, bandaged his stab wounds and, between the two of them, carried him into the dining room so he wouldn't see the dead body in the kitchen.

"How dare you-!"

Kir couldn't help his outburst, he was shocked to see Gleb holding a gun to Zarya and took a confrontational step towards his cousin. Gleb acted quickly, turning and firing off two rounds with a marksman's accuracy. Kir jerked, one bullet piercing his chest, the other tearing through his shoulder, then crumpled to the floor.

"Kir!"

Fedir left Mercedes with Sam and crawled over to his fallen twin but Kyle reached him first. He pulled Kir into his arms, cradling his husband.

The room fell silent in the aftermath of the gunshots, no one quite believing it had happened.

Furious, Zarya slapped Gleb and berated him in Russian. Undeterred, he returned her blow, striking her hard enough to send her to her knees with a cry of pain. David stepped forward to intervene. Gleb raised the pistol. Mockingly, he stroked the muzzle along his younger cousin's cheek, silently urging a confrontation.

Zarya hooked her cane around Gleb's ankle and pulled, spilling her grandson to the floor before her.

"I did not survive Sachsenhausen to die at your hands."

Again, David tried to press their advantage until he heard the sound of a rifle being shucked and saw Luke had a sawed off shotgun aimed at him from several feet away.

Gleb smirked even as he kept the gun trained on Zarya and got to his feet.

"Sachsenhausen served a noble purpose-eliminating undesirables."

Zarya's heart ached to hear his words. "My brother-your great uncle-"

"-was an embarrassing defect to the Karofsky line and should have been exterminated sooner."

Kurt fisted his hands at his sides, eager to punch that smug look off of Gleb's face. Burt tightened his grip on his son's shoulders to keep him from lunging forward.

David dared to kneel down, put an arm around his grandmother and help her into a chair. He reached for her cane but Gleb stepped on it, keeping it firmly under the heel of his boot.

"Nice try."

He took a sheaf of papers from his leather jacket and shoved them towards Dave.

"You're going to sign over your share of Karofsky Caviar to me."

"Mishka." Zarya interrupted. "You understand that he is asking you to sign a legally binding document?"

David nodded, understanding the risk they were taking by pretending to give Gleb what he wanted, hoping he would be satisfied and leave.

"I understand, Nana. I'll sign it."

As he was signing, an alarm went off in the kitchen. Gleb yelled at the two girls to check on it and shut it off. He snatched the signed papers from Dave, checked to see they were in order, then refolded them and put them back in his coat with a satisfied smirk. He pointed the gun at Dave.

"You've served your purpose."

"No!"

Burt moved protectively in front of the boys and grabbed Gleb's arm with both hands.

"Dad!"

Kurt jumped in just as quickly to keep Burt from being hurt. Dave saw an opening and, finally, took the opportunity to land a good, solid punch to Gleb's jaw that sent him to the floor and knocked the gun out of his hand. He heard another gunshot and felt something graze his cheek as Zarya grabbed him and pulled him to the side. He looked up to see Luke pumping the shotgun to reload it as he walked toward s them.

Gleb rolled over to grab his gun but Kurt, realizing what he was doing, got to it first and quickly had the blonde at gunpoint.

"Listen up, bitch. I can take a clay pigeon out at twenty yards with one shot." He racked the slide. "You're a lot closer than twenty yards." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke and Zee coming up. "Back. Off."

They stopped, still several feet away, waiting to see how the situation played out.

Kurt stood with his feet slightly apart, one hand bracing the other as he kept the gun sighted on Gleb. Later, he thought, he would have to remember to thank his dad for all of those boring afternoons spent on target practice.

"Pidar gnoinyj, you don't have the balls to have a _man__'__s_ blood on your hands."

Gleb lunged and Kurt froze, realizing too late that what he said was true. Shooting a man was very different from shooting an inanimate target. Swiftly, Zarya clasped her hand over his and squeezed the trigger. He flinched, closing his eyes and trembling from the slight recoil of the pistol. When he opened them, Gleb Karofsky lay dead at his feet, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling, a single gunshot wound in his forehead.

"He-he-" Kurt stammered then turned away, crying as Burt took him in his arms, firmly reassuring him that he had done the right thing.

"-was an embarrassing defect to the Karofsky line and should have been exterminated sooner."

Zarya said, ironically repeating Gleb's cold dismissal of Nikolai's death. She pried the gun from Kurt's hand.

Luke and Zimmerman advanced but an explosion from the kitchen rocked the restaurant, sending a cloud of thick smoke spilling into the dining room. Seconds later, the sprinkler system activated and the smoke mixed with wet soot.

"Fire, get everyone out!"

Dina's voice cut through the noise as she ran to the front doors and propped them open.

"Fuck this shit, I'm outta here." Zimmerman bolted, shoving people aside.

Luke glanced at Gleb, who wasn't moving, and Zee who had nearly reached the front door.

"Goddammit!" He ran for the door, grabbing the Terrell brothers along the way. "Let's go!"

Nana Zarya took over, calmly but firmly issuing orders in a voice that expected obedience.

"Dina, run to the sports bar for help. Tell them what has happened. Tell them we are bringing our injured there."

"Yes, Nana."

Zarya stopped Burt as he and Finn were carrying Rachel out.

"You, bring your truck to transport the children."

Burt hesitated, worriedly searching the smoke filled restaurant.

"Kurt?"

"Here, Dad."

Burt could see his son with Mercedes and Sam just a few feet from the door.

"I'm gonna get the truck."

Kurt nodded as they all poured out into the parking lot. He looked around.

"Where's David?"

"He is checking on Kir."

Kurt turned back to Zakuski just as David and Fedir carried Kir out on a tablecloth. Kyle followed close behind. Relieved, he followed Zarya's orders, helping Mercedes carry Sam to safety several yards away from the fire.

"Is this everyone?" Zarya asked.

David scanned the parking lot. Mike, Tina, Santana and Brittany were out. Finn and Rachel. Sam, Mercedes and Fedir. He quickly checked off everyone who was outside.

"The two girls-"

"They were in the kitchen. I doubt they survived the explosion."

"Artie." Kurt said softly.

David rechecked the parking lot but didn't see Artie or his wheelchair. He ran back inside. No sooner had he left than Kurt spotted Coach Beiste carrying Artie over to his dad's truck. He ran after to Dave to tell him everyone who was still alive was out.

In the few moments they had been outside, the smoke had intensified and visibility diminished.

"David!"

"I can't find him."

"He's out. Coach Beiste has him. Come on!"

"Wait, I've got his chair."

"Leave it!"

"I'm right behind you, Kurt, go!"

Kurt stumbled out, coughing, blindly wiping the burning soot from his eyes. He could just make out a truck pulling up in front of him.

"Gimme your hand."

The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. Squinting, he reached up and felt two strong hands grab him and pull him into the bed of the truck. Gasping, he started to say "thanks" but the word froze on his lips when he recognized the Terrell brothers. He tried to escape but it was too late. The Ram pulled off, tires squealing.

Dave came out just as the truck passed him. He caught a flash of Kurt's panicked face, pushed Artie's wheelchair into the parking lot then ran after Luke's Ram. He grabbed the side of the truck and pulled himself over, landing in the back next to Kurt.

Burt Hummel saw a blur of red and green as the truck roared past. He recognized it immediately and saw Dave and Kurt in the back fighting with the Terrell brothers. His own truck was loaded with the injured McKinley students. He couldn't risk their lives to chase after the Ram. He quickly dialed Det. Metz's number, hoping the investigator could work with the Cleveland police to have squad cars search for his son.

Luke raced out of the strip mall as fire trucks began pulling in. Joe Terrell lost his shotgun. Kurt lost his phone when they took a sharp turn onto 9th Street. The other Terrell brother, Junior, tried to keep his shotgun focused on Kurt and Dave but the truck kept veering and he struggled to keep his balance.

Luke pulled into the first secluded spot he came to-the Erie Street Cemetery. As they rolled to a stop, David took a chance to tackle Junior, sending them both rolling out of the open tail gate and onto the ground.

Joe jumped out to join the fight. Luke hopped out of the driver's side. Kurt saw another shotgun in the cab of the truck propped up against the rear sliding window. Ignoring Zimmerman's cry of surprise, he snatched it up, ran to the rear of the truck, aimed and this time fired without hesitation at the two Terrell brothers. He heard a yelp of pain.

Zee moved over into the driver's seat and shot the Ram forward, knocking Kurt out of the bed and to the ground. Luke yelled at Zimmerman to bring his gun. Instead, Zee threw the truck in reverse and headed for Kurt.

Kurt tried to roll out of the way but the rear wheel rolled over his ankle. He screamed as metal crushed bone. Luke grabbed for Kurt's shotgun. It fired as they fought over it, shattering the Ram's window and sending a spray of glass cutting into Zee's face. Luke ran to check on him. The Terrell brothers were distracted with their own wounds. Karofsky slung Kurt over his shoulder and ran for it.

Several yards away, Dave started to slow down. He was a right guard. He was conditioned for quick bursts of speed and blocking. Even with the extra adrenaline rush, he could only go so far. He could see the lights of Progressive Field on the other side of the cemetery. Kurt sagged in his arms. He would never make it and he wasn't about to leave Kurt out here in the open. The closest buildings were the mausoleums on either side of the road and he headed towards them.

The first crypt they reached was sealed over with concrete block. The next had no lock. Dave quickly scanned the opposite row of mausoleums and found one that looked promising. He ran to the other side, carefully laid Kurt down then examined the lock and chain on the vault's wrought iron gate. The lock and gates seemed secure enough. He focused on the chain and found a link he thought he could work with.

Karofsky put all of his strength into pulling the chain link apart and gave a satisfied grunt when he finally felt it start to give. He rested a moment. But the sound of a truck roaring through the cemetery quickly motivated him to attack the chain again. He pulled again. This time, the link gave way enough for the rest of the chain to slip through and he was able to swing one side of the gate open enough to get through.

Kurt whimpered when David picked him up again, head rolling against the taller boy's chest. He nuzzled Kurt's cheek as he stumbled into the mausoleum. He carried Kurt to the very back of the small crypt, hiding him as well as he could and carefully set him down. He pressed his phone into Kurt's hand.

"Gimme fifteen minutes, then call 911."

"Where are you going?"

"To fight for you."

He winked before he hurried out. He heard the truck getting closer and he still had to make sure Kurt was safe. David quickly exited the mausoleum, closed the gate and knelt down. He grabbed the chain, pulled it back through and squeezed the open chain link back together. Grudgingly, the link closed.

Kurt shivered in the dark, cold tomb surrounded by dust and decay and filled with a growing sense of loss now that David was gone. He closed his eyes, remembering Nana Zarya's words and, wiping tears from his cheek, realized they were true. He was alone. Freezing. In a moldy, disgusting mausoleum of all places when he was finally ready to admit his feelings for David.

Karofsky had barely gotten the gate closed when he heard Luke's voice behind him. Time had run out. He had gambled their lives and lost. Silently, he asked Kurt's forgiveness and prayed for the strength to keep his boyfriend safe long enough for him to call for help.

A crow bar struck David's left thigh and he heard a sickening crack even as searing pain burned through his body. He screamed.

"You gettin' this for youtube, Zee?"

Zee laughed. "Fuck, yeah!"

Dave heard the chain snap open then felt two arms grab him up and roughly drag him back into the crypt.

As soon as Kurt heard the scream, he dialed 911. Zee charged in and slapped the phone out of his hand but not before the call went through. Cussing under his breath, Zimmerman went down on his hands and knees, fumbling in the dark for the phone.

"911, what's the nature of your emergency?"

Kurt started to yell but Luke clamped his hand down , silencing him.

"Get the goddamn phone!" He hissed at Zee.

Kurt's heart sank when he saw the Terrell brothers bring Dave back and roughly shove him in Kurt's general direction. He bit his lip to keep from screaming again.

"911, what's your address?"

Kurt sank his teeth into Luke's hand, tasting blood as he broke skin. Instinctively, Luke let go.

"Sonofabitch!"

Drawing on his years of experience as a singer, Kurt drew a deep breath and screamed as loud and as long as he could.

"Got it!"

Zimmerman grabbed the phone from an old rat's nest and held it up triumphantly. Luke snatched it and smashed it into the nearest wall.

David used those few moments of distraction to crawl over and curl protectively around Kurt, shielding him with his own body. One hand cradled Kurt's head against his chest.

"…stay down…" He whispered softly against his ear. "…no matter what happens…" He pressed his cheek against Kurt's hair. He tightened his grip, bracing for the next blow to land.

"…I love you, mishka…"

Kurt's voice broke as he fisted his hands in David's shirt.

Burt Hummel paced the waiting room of the MetroHealth Medical Center, waiting for an update from Det. Metz. The Lima detective was still an hour and a half away but had contacted the Cleveland police department as soon as Burt told him what had happened. If not for Coach Beiste, he would be out looking for Kurt and Dave himself. But, as she had pointed out, one, he didn't know the city and two, they had their hands full with the injured and scared McKinley students who would be alone with strangers if they left.

Reluctantly, Burt had agreed to stay. He squeezed Finn's shoulder reassuringly as he passed. Rachel sat next to him, one hand holding his, the other keeping an ice pack pressed to her broken nose. Mike, nursing a black eye, and Lauren had joined them.

Fedir, Kyle and Zarya were speaking with a doctor about how Kir's surgery was progressing.

Toma had arrive and was off in a quiet corner holding Dina as she cried.

Beiste returned to update Burt on the others. Artie had a broken jaw. Sam had reinjured his shoulder. Both of them, along with Tina, also had concussions and would be held overnight for observation. Santana was receiving stitches while Brittany kept her company. And Puck was still in one of the trauma rooms having his stab wounds treated.

Burt nodded as he half-listened to the information. He had contacted as many of the parents as he could and left messages for Mr. Schue and Principal Figgins so they could contact the rest. He joined Mercedes, who had been glued to the t.v. screen since the arrived, hoping for news about Kurt.

"Anything?"

Before she could answer, the t.v. station interrupted with another "Breaking News" segment updating the Zakuski story. Mercedes' startled gasp drew everyone's attention. Instead of the repeated footage of the restaurant fire they had grown numb to seeing, this time the screen cut to a helicopter and a news anchor reporting that police had located potential suspects and were pursuing them on the interstate.

The waiting room fell silent.

Everyone watched, horrified but unable to look away, as Luke's Ram led the police on a reckless cat and mouse chase through moderate traffic. Another car darted over in front of the truck, trying to help the police by blocking it in. The Ram veered sharply to the right, then snapped back to the left to avoid another car that had sped up to block it on that side. One of the boys lost his balance, falling out of the bed of the truck to his death as he was struck and bounced from one windshield to the next only to hit the pavement and be run over.

The Ram squeezed in between two eighteen wheelers in the middle lane, came out on the far right, sped up and crossed back over the middle lane to the far left lane.

Without a word, Zarya walked over and took Burt's hand in both of hers.

Police cars sped up trying to block the Ram in. Luke cut back across the lanes, heading for a narrow opening between two more eighteen wheelers in the far right lane.

"He's not gonna make it."

Burt Hummel said what they were all thinking. No sooner had he spoken than the inevitable happened. Rachel turned away. Finn shouted a useless warning to stop. The second truck clipped the rear of the Ram, sending it crashing into the undercarriage of the first eighteen wheeler. The cab of the truck was sheared off. There was a fraction of a second when someone in the bed of the truck stood up only to be crushed in the metal wreckage.

Burt stood, numb with disbelief as he continued to stare at the t.v. screen. The next hour passed in a haze. He was vaguely aware of other McKinley parents and family members arriving. Rachel's dads were first. Burt had to look away. It hurt too much to see them and be reminded of a future that Kurt and Dave would never have.

Finn met his gaze then quickly lowered his eyes, cheeks flushing with guilt over being the son who survived. Burt knew he should say something. Do something. But grief immobilized him.

Det. Metz arrived, too, and sat down long enough to ask about any scars, tattoos or other identifying marks Kurt might have. After he left, Burt realized they needed the information to identify his son's body and he broke down. Zarya came to his side and again took his hand even as her own tears fell.

Through it all, the t.v. droned on, repeating the "breaking news" with the same footage they had just shown fifteen minutes earlier. Firefighters continued to fight hotspots flaring up at Zakuski. A reporter was "live on the scene" outside the hospital speculating on how many people had been injured and how severely they were wounded. The chase was replayed often. And, finally, another reporter reported live from the crash scene as it was being cleared.

"-recovered the bodies of four young men from the wreckage. The victims' identities are being withheld until their families have been notified."

Burt watched as Det. Metz led a middle aged couple into a small room just off of the main waiting room and closed the door. A small plaque identified it as the "Quiet Room". He watched the door, puzzled at something nudging the back of his mind.

_-until their families have been notified. _

Burt frowned. If they had already recovered the bodies, why hadn't Det. Metz officially told him Kurt was dead?

_Four bodies._

He froze.

_Four bodies, not six. Not Kurt._

He met Zarya's eyes and realized Det. Metz hadn't spoken to her, either.

Burt took a few minutes to walk down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, thinking through everything that had happened. By the time he returned, he was more convinced than ever that Kurt and Dave hadn't been in the truck. Which meant they were still out there somewhere. And he meant to find them.

He bought all the mapbooks he could find in the gift shop then went back to the waiting room to explain his plan. At first, the others were skeptical. Zarya was the first to embrace Burt's ideas and the rest of the Karofskys followed her lead.

"Finn, you in?"

Finn met Burt's eyes and knew he couldn't refuse. Maybe it was hopeless, but he had to at least try to find Kurt.

"Absolutely."

He flashed a lopsided grin as he pulled his chair over to the coffee table to look at the maps.

Dina, Zarya and Toma, the three most familiar with Cleveland, immediately started discussing where to look. Zarya drew a small circle with her finger, outlining a fairly close area around Zakuski.

"I do not believe they went far." Zarya spoke quietly. "They would have found someplace close to Zakuski. Somewhere they would not be disturbed."

"Why closer?"

"Because…" Zarya's voice wavered as memories of Sachsenhausen came back to mind. "…because then they could start torturing the boys sooner."

Burt felt a twinge in his chest. Kurt might still be out there, still be alive, but who know what those s.o.b.'s had done to him.

"Here." Toma tapped a spot not far from Zakuski. "A construction site. Five or six abandoned apartment buildings that are being renovated by the city. No one would be there this time of night."

Burt nodded and circled the location on his own map.

Zarya pointed to another area. "The Erie Street Cemetery off of 9th Street."

"The drainage ditch." Dina tapped yet a third address. "Or the dump site leading down to it."

Burt's jaw tightened. A construction site. A cemetery. A ditch. They all sounded like perfect places to dump a body. They worked out the details, deciding who would stay, who would go and to which location then split up to begin searching.

Burt Hummel stood on the riverbank in the cold, gray hours before dawn, flashlight playing across the abandoned stoves, refrigerators and unwanted garbage littering the out of the way dump site. He found what he had spotted from the road. A rolled up blue tarp with a neon orange "FAG" spraypainted across it. Now that he was closer, he could see the bare foot that trailed from under the plastic into the muddy water.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I know, it's a short chapter, but I didn't want to keep everyone waiting as long as last time to find out what happened to Kurt and Dave.**

* * *

PART 24

He stood in the hospital morgue holding his son's lifeless hand in his, wondering how events had spiraled down to this moment. Wondering what action or inaction on his part had cost him his child.

"Mr. Karofsky."

It was the second time Det. Metz had tried to get his attention. And for the second time, he was ignored.

"We'd like to do an autopsy."

Finally, reluctantly, he looked over, forced to acknowledge the officer's presence.

"No."

"It's standard procedure for homicide cases."

Mr. Karofsky shook his head, hand reflexively tightening around his son's pale, unresponsive fingers.

Det. Metz sighed, sympathetic to the man's loss. He was a father, too.

"If you refuse, I'll have to get a court order." He was careful not to sound threatening. "That could take a while. Wouldn't you rather use that time to make arrangements for your son?"

A strangled, choking sound came from the older man. After a moment, he regained his poise. He took the clipboard from the detective, reading words that barely registered to his grief blurred mind.

"They misspelled his name."

With deft, precise strokes of his pen, he corrected the permission form before signing it, carefully printing his son's name as a final gesture before letting him go.

G-l-e-b.

* * *

Off. Rita Reyes watched Det. Metz lead an older gentleman through the chaos of the E.R. area to the Quiet Room to be interviewed. She shook her head as she fished another quarter out of her pocket for the vending machine and waited for her coffee. The t.v. continued to update the Zakuski situation. Reyes took her coffee into the waiting room lobby to watch, whistling softly under her breath at the new totals that flashed across the screen. What a mess.

The initial restaurant invasion, the fire, the interstate crash and two more pile ups because of slowed traffic from the first crash had left fifteen dead and nearly twice that many injured. The 911lines were jammed. MetroHealth's trauma center was full. Some of the victims were being re-routed to other hospitals and even other cities.

"Yo, Rita."

Off. Reyes grinned as Sgt. Rolm, her former partner, came up and playfully stole her coffee. After a quick sip, he winked and handed it back.

"You helping out with the Zakuski interviews?"

Reyes rolled her eyes. "I wish. I'm babysitting a John Doe in detention."

"Drunk?"

"Naw, bunch of teens vandalized one of the Erie Street mausoleums. Might be a gang related initiation."

"You think he was jumped in?"

She shrugged. "Kid was messed up enough to need surgery."

"Off. Reyes?" Both officers turned to the nurse who quickly maneuvered through the hectic emergency room to reach them. "He's awake and responsive. When I asked his name, he said Mishka."

"Mishka?" Sgt. Rolm repeated, surprised.

"You know my John Doe?"

"I think the grandmother in the Zakuski case mentioned someone named Mishka."

Reyes scanned the room. "Is she still here?"

"Her grandson-" Sgt. Rolm flipped open his notepad, verifying his information. "-Kir Karofsky-was in surgery-two bullet wounds. I'd check the surgical I.C.U."

"Thanks!"

* * *

Kurt Hummel woke again to warm blankets, a throbbing ankle and his wrist handcuffed to the side rail of a hospital bed.

"Miss Zarya, is this your grandson?"

Nana Zarya shook her head, but managed to smile at Kurt in spite of her disappointment.

"His name is Kurt Hummel. He is the other boy who was missing." Zarya's voice was flat, drained of emotion after the long night. "My grandson was not with him when he was found?"

"No, ma'am. Eyewitnesses heard screaming then saw several teenagers take off in a pick up truck."

Zarya nodded, the dull ache in her heart growing stronger as the hours passed and still there was no word about David. She took a seat by Kurt and brushed the bangs off his forehead.

"How are you feeling?"

Kurt rattled his handcuff against the metal railing. "I don't like this bracelet." He pouted. "It clashes with my skin tone." He held his wrist up expectantly. "Take it off!"

Off. Reyes bit her lip against a sarcastic reply. The teenager was still recovering from anesthesia. She knew from experience patients could be disoriented and cranky when they were waking up from surgery. She obliged Kurt, unlocking the handcuff and freeing him. He stared blankly at his bare wrist for a moment.

"I'd like to see something in gold."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

"See that you do." Kurt answered snippishly before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

_Matthew Shepard._

Burt Hummel hurried down the muddy bank, going as fast as he dared without losing his footing.

_Billy Jack Gaither. _

He was breathing heavily when he reached the bottom, less from exertion than from fear.

_Larry King._

It was a fear he had lived with from the moment Kurt had asked for a sensible pair of heels for his birthday. A fear he had managed to shove aside over the years until the latest gay murder flashed across the evening news.

Burt froze, unable to take the last few steps to check on the body.

It was the fear that one day Kurt would be a statistic like the others, never to have his Broadway debut, never to fall in love, never to _live. _His cell phone rang, startling Burt from his thoughts. He answered it with a growl, nearly yelling at the interruption then stopped short, stunned.

"…kurt?..."

Burt's knees buckled and he quickly sat down on an overturned refrigerator, not quite believing what he was hearing. The voice on the other end of the phone chattered away, words coming a mile a minute, rambling and disjointed from the pain medication but unmistakeably his son's. Kurt stopped talking and Burt belatedly realized he was waiting for a response.

"What?"

"David." Kurt repeated. "Have you found David yet?"

Burt's gaze drifted over to the body under the tarp.

"No." His voice cracked. "Not yet. But we'll keep looking."

Burt closed his eyes, chest tightening in response to Kurt quietly crying on the phone.

"I'll find him." He swallowed hard. "I promise, kiddo." He repeated more firmly. "I'll find him."

The crying faded and then Zarya Karofsky was on the phone explaining about Kurt's surgery and reassuring Burt that his injuries were being treated. Burt nodded to himself. He thanked her and hung up, grateful that she hadn't asked for news of her grandson. Maybe she already knew.

Burt walked over to the tarp and peeled back the blue plastic.

Dave lay curled on his side; blindfolded, gagged and stripped down to his underwear. An extension cord bound his hands behind his back then wrapped around his throat in a simple but effective hogtie that immobilized him. He wouldn't have been able to move without choking himself. Not that it mattered now. With the injuries he had, Dave Karofsky wouldn't be moving on his own for a very long time.

A compound fracture pierced David's left thigh. Burt winced at the sharp bone jutting through his skin. Bruises darkened his body; his back and arms had taken most of the blows. Burt was surprised that his chest and abdomen seemed relatively free of injuries. It dawned on him then that Karofsky must have lain on top of Kurt, protecting him.

Burt knelt in the mud, using his pocketknife to cut through the hogtie. The left side of Dave's face was swollen, nearly unrecognizable. Burt treated him with as much care as he would have treated Kurt as he unwound the electrical cord from his neck. He wanted to remove the blindfold and gag as well. But with the injuries to the teenager's face, Burt worried he might cause more damage. He checked for a pulse, exhaling sharply in relief when he felt the steady heartbeat under his fingers.

It could have been Kurt.

Burt blinked back tears.

It would have been Kurt if Dave hadn't been there.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Wow-over 500 reviews! Have I mentioned I have the best reviewers in the world? I do. I really do. Love you guys!**

**Warning: Language.**

* * *

PART 25

Burt shrugged out of his coat and laid it, still warm from his own body heat, over David. Strong hands moved quickly, pulling the fabric across the still unconscious teen and tucking it in. He covered Dave's hands with his wool knit cap. Last, Burt wrapped David's bare feet in his thick muffler.

Satisfied that he had protected Karofsky as best as he could from the cold, Burt called Beiste and asked her to bring the first aid kit and blanket down from his truck. He lit an emergency glow stick to signal his location for her and the rest of his group. While he waited for Beiste, Mercedes and Fedir to arrive, he called 911. Busy. Swearing, he tried again. This time it rang and went through to a recording saying all of the dispatchers were handling other emergencies at the moment.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Burt swore again as he angrily disconnected the call.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." Coach Beiste murmured under her breath when she saw Dave and quickly crossed herself. "Is he-?"

"Hanging in there." Burt muttered, punching 9-1-1 on his phone for the third time. And, for the third time, not getting through. "Goddammit!"

* * *

David sighed, breath ghosting in the frosty morning air. He couldn't see. Couldn't speak. A hazy memory of Kurt whimpering against his shoulder flickered on the edge of his consciousness. Followed by searing pain. Then nothing until now. He thought he had lost Kurt but then a warmth settled over him and he imagined the smaller boy huddled against him.

* * *

"Mishka's alive."

Fedir's voice sounded shaky over the cell phone. Zarya covered her mouth with a trembling hand to quiet her relieved cry. Still, the noise was enough to wake Kurt. Shaking off the last of his lethargy, he quickly struggled into a sitting position, alarmed by Zarya's tears.

"Is it David?"

She nodded once, still listening to Fedir on the phone. Voice choked with emotion, Zarya took Kurt's hand in hers, unable to speak.

"Is he-?" Kurt asked anxiously.

"..alive…" She managed, fearful that she had misheard Fedir's words.

* * *

As the warmth from Burt's coat cleared the cold from David's body, it also cleared the numbness that had dulled his injuries. His body ached. He shifted, trying to get comfortable. Strong hands pressed him down and he panicked, sure that Luke and Zimmerman had returned. He struggled, fighting through the pain, determined to keep them from getting to Kurt. The sudden movement sent a jolt like lightning burning through his left leg.

David screamed.

* * *

Kurt paled when he heard Dave's yell.

"Fedir." Zarya's grip on the phone tightened. "Fedir, what is going on?" She listened, nodding to herself. "I understand." She handed the phone to Kurt. "They are trying to help but Mishka is fighting them. Mercedes wishes to speak to you."

Kurt nodded as he took the cell phone. "Mercedes?"

"We found Dave."

"I heard him scream. What's wrong?"

"He's really messed up, Bay-Bay. Your dad's trying to keep him calm but it's not working. I think—I think maybe he would listen to you. Think you can talk to him?"

"Will he answer me?"

"Kurt, he can't—" Mercedes broke off for a moment. "Kurt, he's not gonna be able to answer you. But he might hear you."

Kurt closed his eyes, wondering what in the hell Luke and Zimmerman had done to his boyfriend. He felt Nana Zarya's arm settle in a comforting hug around his shoulders.

"Let me know when you're ready."

He heard movement, his dad's voice and Coach Beiste's in the background, and then Mercedes again.

"Ready."

"David."

Hearing Kurt's voice, Dave tried again to struggle through his pain and break free of the hands holding him.

"David, don't move."

He hesitated, trembling from his efforts and weak from the abuse his body had taken. He moaned against the gag still bound against his mouth.

"Stay still."

Dave bit back another scream.

"It's okay, I'm safe." Kurt heard what he thought was a relieved sigh. "I'm safe." He repeated softly, tears damp against his lashes. "You saved me."

Dave sagged back onto the tarp, exhausted, feeling the fog of unconsciousness closing in. Just before he drifted off, he could have sworn he heard Kurt singing quietly in his ear.

"It worked." Mercedes was back on the line. "You did it."

"Put my dad on the phone."

"Kurt? You okay? You need anything?"

"Promise me you'll stay with David. Please, Dad. That's the only thing I need right now."

"I promise. Is his grandmother around?"

Kurt glanced over at Zarya. "She's right here. Why?"

"Just wanna let her know what's going on."

"You're keeping something from me."

"Kurt, we need to get your boy to a hospital. I just wanna check with Mrs. Karofsky to see where she wants him to go."

Kurt considered. "That's all?"

"That's all, kiddo. Get some rest. I'll see you soon. Now let me talk to her."

"All right."

Kurt handed the phone back to Zarya, listening closely for any sign that his father may have been less than truthful with him. Nana Zarya, mindful of Kurt's attention, was careful in her responses. Burt explained his plan to carry Dave up the riverbank and to a nearby parking lot with the hope that they could get a helicopter to land there and take him to a trauma center. Zarya questioned him about the necessity of moving her injured grandson. Satisfied with his answers, she assured Burt that she would see to the arrangements on her end and hung up.

"I'm coming with you."

Zarya arched her eyebrow, eyeing Kurt coolly.

"You are staying here."

Kurt grabbed the bed rail to lower it. Wordlessly, Nana Zarya reached over and clasped the handcuff onto his wrist. Shocked, Kurt rattled the cuff, uselessly trying to free himself. He gaped, open mouthed at Zarya.

"Oh, no, you didn't!"

Zarya's lips twitched, pleased at her own cleverness.

"I believe I did."

She walked out, feeling Kurt's angry glare at her back.

* * *

Several minutes and several conversations later, Zarya had a better appreciation for Burt Hummel's frustration. It seemed all of the emergency rooms in Cleveland were at capacity and refusing to accept any more patients. Air ambulances not already loaded with injured passengers were being refueled or still en route from outlying counties. A few clinics were willing to treat minor wounds but weren't equipped for the kind of trauma David had suffered.

Finally, Nana Zarya had intercepted Det. Metz as he left the Quiet Room. He promised to see what he could do. Zarya watched him walk away, worried that precious minutes were being lost.

The door to the Quiet Room opened again, startling her. Even more startling was suddenly being face to face with her son, Peter Karofsky.

Furious, she grabbed his arm.

"Did you know?"

Her grip tightened as she forced him back into the room to confront him.

"Answer me!"

Peter lowered his eyes, shamed by the pain in his mother's face. Pain his son had caused.

"He said he had a caviar proposal he wanted to discuss with David."

"You believed him?" Zarya asked sharply, incredulous.

"No." Peter's answer came quickly as he met his mother's eyes, pleading for understanding, compassion. He shrugged helplessly. "But I hoped…" His voice trailed off into silence, drowned out by ambulance sirens and the droning t.v. news as the aftermath of Gleb's actions continued to play out.

Grief and regret etched her son's face and Zarya realized there was nothing more she could say that Peter had not already come to realize on his own. And paid a terrible price for his newfound wisdom. She sighed. The long hours of worrying and wondering had left her drained. There had been enough suffering tonight. What was done couldn't be undone. Nana Zarya understood it was time to begin the healing process. For everyone.

"There are worse things, Piotr, than to be blinded by hope."

Zarya drew her son into her arms and even now Peter felt comfort in her embrace.

"There is the loss of a child." Zarya continued softly. "Even a wayward one."

* * *

Det. Metz returned to Zarya with mixed news. Lima Memorial was a Level II Trauma Center and they were willing and equipped to take Dave. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to arrange for a helicopter yet. The best he could do was offer a police escort for an ambulance that would be ready in half an hour.

"Lima is three hours away by car."

"We'll run lights and sirens all the way."

Peter Karofsky slipped unnoticed from the Quiet Room while his mother and Det. Metz discussed David's transportation. He had seen the news reporter in the emergency room lobby and had an idea. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the least he could do to try to make amends for Gleb's destruction. He waited until newswoman was off the air before grabbing her arm.

"Let. Go."

"I have a proposition for you."

The newswoman looked him over and laughed. "One, you're not my type. Two, you're twice my age. And three, sorry, but I don't have daddy issues to work out."

Peter's lips thinned in displeasure at her arrogance. She jerked out of his grasp and walked off, heels clicking sharply on the pavement.

"What d'you want?"

Peter Karofsky turned. A tired, middle aged man was watching him, eyes bright with interest.

"It doesn't concern you."

The man shrugged. "It might."

Peter scoffed. "Not unless you have a helicopter."

The man sipped his coffee, unruffled. "Just so happens, I do."

Peter gave the man a second look, realization dawning. "You're the traffic reporter."

The man smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "Yep. Joe Wells."

"I was going to offer her an exclusive interview."

Joe's interest was piqued. The newswoman had been given an anchor spot promised to him and he had been looking for a chance to scoop a story from her ever since.

"I'm listening."

"My nephew…one of the boys who was missing…has been found. But he's badly injured. The hospital is full." Peter gestured helplessly. "All of the city hospitals are full."

"Where you wanna take him?"

"Lima Memorial. They've already agreed take him. If we can get him there."

"This exclusive interview—it's with the boy?"

"No, with me."

Joe laughed, skeptical. "Yeah? And what's so exclusive about interviewing a victim's uncle?"

"I'm the father of Gleb Karofsky…the gunman."

Joe yelped as he spilled coffee on his hand. He licked his lips nervously as he looked around, hoping no one else had heard.

"The police haven't released the gunman's name."

"They were waiting until I had confirmed my son's identity."

"I'm not gonna go easy on you—when I interview you."

Peter glanced back his mother, the ache of guilt weighing heavily on him.

"I did not ask you to."

Joe held out his hand and Peter shook it briefly.

"Deal. Let's go get your nephew."

* * *

Azimio Adams lay in the hospital bed admiring the pencils he had manage to throw up into the acoustic paneled ceiling. He had just finished lunch, listened to music and now waited, bored, for his dad to show up for afternoon visiting hours. It wasn't long before Mr. Adams appeared with a weary looking Finn Hudson close behind.

Finn managed a smile for Az and fist bumped him, genuinely glad to see his teammate looking well.

"What's up, Hudson? You look like shit."

Finn ran a ragged hand through his hair and glanced worriedly at Az's dad, not sure where to begin. The look wasn't lost on Azimio.

"Is it my leg?"

"Your leg's fine." His dad was quick to reassure him. " It's Dave Karofsky. He's here."

Azimio didn't need to think about his answer. He'd been thinking about his friendship with Karofsky for the past week.

"S'okay, dad, he can come in."

"Az, he's here as a patient." Finn said.

Azimio looked to his dad who nodded in confirmation. After a moment, he shook his head, laughing.

"How'd the dumbass get fucked up? Puckerman finally lose his shit and take him out?"

"The guys who jumped you got him, too."

Azimio's smile faded.

"How messed up is he?"

Finn snuffled as he ran his shirt sleeve roughly across his face. Az realized then that the quarterback had been crying. He felt a small flicker of panic. Shit wasn't supposed to go down like this. Karofsky was supposed to stop by, apologize, Az would give him a hard time about and then they'd be cool.

"Dad?"

Finn nodded to Mr. Adams, relieved to let him take over.

"They couldn't save his eye."

"…fuck…"

"They're not sure about his leg. The bone broke through his skin. It could get infected."

"Is he gonna die?"

"I don't know, Azimio."

"Hudson?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Karofsky…" Azimio swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "-tell that asshole if he dies, I'll fuckin' kill him."


	26. Chapter 26

**Warning: Language. Mildly violent imagery. (One line, it's not too graphic.)**

* * *

PART 26

"You look like a fucking pirate."

Dave groaned, right eye blinking against the unwelcome intrusion of the glaring hospital lights overhead. Confused, he carefully felt along the edge of the patch and gauze covering his left eye. Something pinged against his chest. He looked down and picked up a small blue circle of hard plastic. Another ping. Another plastic circle landed on his stomach. Red this time.

"I know you're awake, Karofsky."

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Dave batted irritably at the barrage of toy disks flying onto his bed.

"Got a hundred tiddlywinks over here. Your name's on all of 'em. Stop ignoring me, dumbass."

"…motherfucker…"

Az grinned as Dave groggily turned his head, struggling to focus on him. He winced at the unexpected pain in his left eye.

"Where's Kurt?"

Azimio laughed. "Chill, dude, you're not gonna be usin' Twinkletoes as a tackling dummy for a while."

"Don't call him that!"

"What—you got a hard on for the fags now?"

Dave closed his eye.

"You have no idea."

He sighed, too exhausted to keep secrets any more.

"I'm gay."

Azimio snorted derisively. "Took you long enough."

"Wait—what?"

"I'd have to be blind not to-." Azimio stopped, embarrassed by what he had just said. "Sorry, bro."

David stared at the ceiling, shaking his head, silently refusing to believe what he had just heard. He touched the eye patch again then saw the scar on his thigh. He licked his lips, trying to make sense of what was happening. What had already happened. And even now, there was only one thing that really mattered.

"Kurt was with me. Was he hurt?"

"Busted ankle."

Dave wasn't sure he believed Azimio. If it was true, if Kurt was wasn't badly hurt, where was he? Wasn't his boyfriend supposed to be here, holding his hand, telling him everything would be okay and shit? Unless…he couldn't help touching that damn eye patch again…unless he was too fucked up for Kurt to look at.

"What'd they do to me, Az?"

Azimio told him. Everything. And Dave listened, a cold, hard knot of fear growing in his stomach. The surgeons had removed his left eye. Pinned his thigh together with a metal rod. Inserted a chest tube to treat his collapsed lung…caused by broken ribs.

Broken bones would heal. His lung would heal. His eye? David thought he remembered reading something about eye donors recently. Eye transplant surgery. Yes, he convinced himself, grasping at any glimmer of hope he could come up with, even his eye could be fixed.

* * *

Nana Zarya nodded approvingly to herself when she saw the fire damage to Zakuski was already being cleaned up and repaired. Someone—probably the insurance adjustor—was outside talking to Dina and taking notes. Aleks was carrying heavy debris out to the dumpsters. Toma was nailing plywood over the broken front windows. Zarya waited until Fedir parked the car and came around to open the door for her before getting out. Taking his arm, they walked inside.

Surprisingly, Peter Karofsky was in the checkout area. Zarya watched as he carefully wiped soot off a matryoshka, wrapped it in paper then placed the Russian nesting doll in a storage box with several others. From the half empty shelves behind the cash register, he had been working for a while.

"Piotr."

Peter looked up, leaving a smudge of ash as he wiped his temple.

"Mother."

He leaned over and gave her a quick, uncertain kiss on the cheek. Zarya used her handkerchief to clean the soot off his skin. She held his gaze for a long moment, considering everything that had happened. He had kept his word to the reporter. The questions had been brutal; the interview…heartbreaking. Over a hundred comments had been posted to the t.v. station's website. Zarya had read all of the hate directed to her son and grandson. And Peter hadn't responded to any of it.

She returned his kiss of greeting.

"Thank you for saving Mishka."

Peter nodded and reached for another nesting doll to clean.

Zarya took Fedir's arm as he carefully helped her navigate the debris of the main dining room. The room smelled damp and smoky. Fedir cleared a path for his grandmother, uprighting fallen chairs, kicking debris aside and offering a supporting hand as needed. Zarya noted the change that had come over him ever since his twin brother, Kir, had been shot. His quick grin and easygoing laugh had vanished. Sober, shadowed eyes and a tightly set jaw were the standard now. She wondered if he would ever playfully call her "babushka" again.

Something glinted against the ash darkened floor. Zarya thought they were in the right place. Bracing herself with her cane, she leaned over and wiped away the wet debris, smiling in triumph as she found the object of her search. The forest green material was charred beyond rescue. But the hand carved steel button with the little gosling still gleamed as she scooped it into her palm.

Even Fedir smiled a little to see that the sentimental trinket had survived. He glanced at his watch.

"Are you ready, Nana? They'll be transporting Kir and the others to Lima soon. You said you wanted to leave with the caravan."

Zarya nodded.

* * *

After much discussion among family members and doctors, everyone had decided to return to Lima. Kir and Puck, stable but still needing hospital care, would be transported by ambulance to Lima Memorial where David and Azimio were.

Paul Karofsky had arrived at Lima Memorial to take over his son's care. Burt Hummel and Finn Hudson returned to Cleveland to pick up Kurt and settle his medical bills. The New Directions' parents and family members had stayed overnight in Cleveland, preferring to wait until Artie, Sam and Tina were cleared to travel with their concussions and they could leave with their friends. Everyone met in MetroHealth's parking lot to form a caravan behind the ambulance carrying Kir and Puck.

Lauren helped Sam adjust the sling for his reinjured shoulder. Brittany fussed over Santana's stitches. Mike had one arm protectively over Tina's shoulders, mirroring Finn and Rachel who were talking to Artie. Unfortunately, Artie's broken jaw had been wired shut and conversation was frustrating.

Kurt stood next to Gruff, one hand resting lovingly on Dave's car. He had finally convinced his dad that they couldn't all fit into Burt's truck and, since it was his left ankle that had been broken, he was more than capable of driving the GTO with his right foot. Burt had relented only after Finn and Rachel offered to ride with Kurt. Not the best solution but Kurt had been adamant about Finn not driving Gruff.

Kurt shot his dad an unhappy look. Burt had been evasive about Dave's condition, saying only that he was alive and the doctors were taking good care of him. Finn, uncharacteristically, had been just as closed about Dave, too. Kurt's hope that he could coax more information from his stepbrother on the way home was dimming.

Nana Zarya and Fedir arrived and, after a brief conversation with Kyle, everyone piled into their cars and trucks and began the long drive to Lima.

* * *

"Sonofabitch!"

Dave punched a fist into his pillow, helpless against the tears that threatened. He shifted, grunting against the pain throbbing through his leg and chest. Another sharply hitched breath. Az still didn't know how he felt about the gay shit, but he did know he didn't want to lay there listening to his best friend suffer.

"Buzz the damn nurse already, Karofsky."

"I can't!"

Azimio looked over and saw that Dave's call button had fallen to the floor out of his reach.

"Dumbass." Azimio pressed his own call button. "You coulda said somethin'."

Dave bit back a scream as he hunched over, both hands pressed hard against his thigh. Shaking, he tried to breathe through the pain. He barely registered the hurried footsteps, a strong arm around his shoulders and then the quick pinch of a needle in his arm.

As the pain subsided, Dave realized his father was holding him, supporting him as he helped David lay back against the pillows. Wordlessly, Dave held fast to his hand as he drifted to sleep under the medication.

The nurse who had given Dave his shot checked her watch and noted the time and dosage on his bedside computer. She retrieved his call button, tied it loosely around the guard rail where it would be in his reach, checked his pulse then left.

Paul Karofsky nodded gratefully to Azimio.

"Thank you."

Azimio shrugged then rolled over on his side. He told himself it was to give Dave and his dad some privacy, not to awkwardly dry his tears like a fucking girl.

* * *

Nana Zarya woke from her nap and took a moment to adjust to her surroundings. After dropping her off at Paul Karofsky's house, Fedir had gone home to sleep, bathe and change into fresh clothes. They had both been exhausted from their long hours at the hospital. Zarya checked her phone and was surprised to see a text message from Kurt. He wanted to pick up some toiletries for David and offered her a ride to Lima Memorial for afternoon visiting hours. She responded, promising to collect the items Kurt had requested and accepting his invitation.

After a quick bath and change of clothes, Zarya went to David's room to gather his things. She spotted a duffel bag on the floor. Zarya cleared the few books and notes out of the bag then froze when she saw Nikolai's journal in the bottom. Trembling, she reached for it. The texture of the cover had changed. She opened the book with care, gasping as she saw the dry, wrinkled pages and water damaged ink smears.

"It wasn't David's fault."

Kurt's voice interrupted her thoughts. Zarya glanced over, frowning when she realized he had hopped upstairs on his crutches. It was on the tip of her tongue to chastise him. But one look at his face and she changed her mind. Kurt Hummel was fiercely protective of her grandson and it moved Zarya to see his concern over her reaction to the ruined journal.

"I did not think it was."

She set the journal aside, fingers lingering on it a moment as she considered what could be done with it. She turned back to Kurt with a warm smile. Under his direction, she packed a few of Dave's things into the duffel bag. It amused her how well he knew David's preferences already. She zipped the bag closed, picked up her cane and started to leave.

"Nana…" Kurt eyed David's jacket. "…there is one more thing."

* * *

"I've always been a straight shooter, Karofsky. I'm not gonna change now."

Dave nodded. He'd been expecting Coach Beiste to have a talk with him. And with his dad, Finn and Principal Figgins with her, he had a pretty good idea what she was about to say.

"When you can't buck the bronco, kiddo, it's time to leave the rodeo."

Finn nervously cleared his throat. "We're cutting you from the Titans." He started to say more but words failed him and he closed his mouth.

Dave's throat went dry at the news. Even though he had expected it, even though he was determined to make the team again next year, still, it was a hard blow to take.

"I understand."

Paul Karofsky gave his son's forearm a quick, awkward squeeze.

"I'm proud of the way you're handling this, son."

"S'okay, Dad." He managed a tight smile for Finn who look relieved. "I get it." He turned to Coach Beiste with a determined look. "I just want you to know I'm gonna do whatever it takes to be ready for next season."

"Dude…" Finn faltered. "…you're off the team. Permanently."

Dave frowned. "Tryouts are months away. I can be ready." A note of desperation colored his voice as he pleaded. "I'll be ready."

"David, the school board is not willing to accept liability for letting you participate in any contact sport with your—reduced visual capacity."

"But after the eye transplant, I'll be fine."

A look passed between Paul Karofsky and Coach Beiste.

"David, I thought you understood. You would need a completely new eye. The doctors…I'm sorry, son…it's not medically possible."

"You let Artie play. He's in a goddamned wheelchair!"

"Fuckin' discrimination is what this is!" Azimio yelled from the other side of the privacy curtain separating their beds.

"Yeah. We'll sue." David smirked, just a little, remembering his successful challenge to the school board just a few months ago when he had almost been expelled. "Right, Dad?"

"We're not going to sue."

"Dad…varsity football…my senior year…you can't…" He shook his head, helplessly tightening his hands in the sheets. "…I can't lose football, too."

Coach Beiste cleared her throat. "There's other sports you could try. Your dad said you did some kayaking in Boy Scouts."

"Kayaking?"

* * *

Kurt couldn't help the nervous, excited flutter he felt when, balancing on his crutches, he stood in Dave's doorway, beaming as he waited for his boyfriend to look his way. Finally, a hazel green eye turned to meet his gaze. Kurt straightened a little, proud to be wearing David's gray Titans "67" t-shirt and varsity letterman draped over his shoulders.

"You owed me a jacket." Kurt said lightly, hoping he sounded playfully flirty.

"Take it off." David whispered, heart breaking to see the physical reminder that everything he had worked so hard for—everything he loved about football—would never be his again.

Kurt's smile vanished.

"I just thought—"

"Who the hell said you could wear that?"

Zarya stood behind Kurt, hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"I did."

Dave glared at his grandmother. "Fuck. You."

"David!" Kurt gasped. The only sound in the suddenly hushed room. He took a tentative step forward. "You've been through so much. I can't imagine—"

"No, Kurt, you can't!"

There was a time when seeing this side of David—the tension, the anger threatening to explode at any moment—would have frightened Kurt. He knew better now. He noticed David's hands fisted in the sheets tight enough to whiten his knuckles. And he recognized the ever so slight tremble in those fingers. Not anger, fear. He took another step forward, more confident now.

"You're right, I can't imagine. But I can try to understand."

"Is that right? When someone rips out your goddamn throat and tells you you can't fucking sing any more, then you can tell me how much you understand!"

Kurt let out a small "oh" of understanding as everything finally fell into place. Finn and Coach Beiste being there. Karofsky's reaction, lashing out about his letterman jacket.

Paul Karofsky reached over to touch Dave's arm but David shrugged him off with an irritated growl.

"Get off of me!"

Paul looked around apologetically. "I think it would be best if we let David rest now."

Everyone started to leave except Nana Zarya and Kurt.

"I think it would be best if I spoke to Mishka."

"Frankly, Nana-" Kurt's voice was quiet but firm. "—I don't think you should stay a minute longer until David apologizes."

"Don't tell my grandmother what to do!"

Kurt and Zarya both looked at Dave expectantly but he sullenly refused to say another word.

"I believe I will go visit Kir. Perhaps he will appreciate my presence."

Zarya set the duffel bag she carried down and left, not looking back even though she was tempted. David watched in disbelief.

"Get out."

Kurt set his crutches aside.

"Make me."

He shrugged out of the letterman jacket and draped it on a chair out of David's sight. He did the same for the t-shirt, folding it carefully and also setting it where Dave wouldn't have to see it. He was left wearing a long sleeved turtleneck.

He gathered his crutches and hobbled over to the chairs at Dave's bedside. David watched him, frowning in concern. His gaze lingered longer than he intended and Kurt caught him watching. Dave quickly looked away. But Kurt had seen the worried look on his face.

"I'll be fine." He couldn't keep a knowing smirk off his face. "Thanks for asking."

Silence. But Kurt noticed the little nod to himself his boyfriend had made as if relieved that Kurt would recover.

* * *

David had taken his evening pain medication and was fast asleep when Becky came in. Kurt looked up, surprised at her unexpected visit as she walked over and plopped in the chair next to him.

"Can I give Davey his cupcake?"

"I don't think-Davey-will feel like eating a cupcake tonight."

Becky's face fell. "Oh." She picked at the jelly beans and coconut icing. "Do you think he would get mad if I ate it? I'm really hungry."

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"Promise you won't tell Coach?"

Kurt crossed his heart. "I promise."

Giggling, Becky picked off one of the jelly beans and popped it in her mouth. "I'll make him a prettier one tomorrow." She licked icing off of her fingers.

Kurt watched her, curious how someone like Karofsky could have possibly inspired so much devotion from someone like Becky. "You really like him don't you?"

"Uh-huh. He saved Charlie."

"Who's Charlie?"

"My hamster."

"Really?"

Becky nodded enthusiastically. "Resuscitated him." She picked off another jelly bean and offered it to Kurt. He smiled and shook his head.

"Dave Karofsky resuscitated your hamster." Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing at the mental picture.

"With a straw."

Kurt giggled.

"If you want, I can tell Davey tomorrow's cupcake is from both of us."

"Why would you do that?"

Becky let out an impatient huff as if Kurt should already know the answer. "'Cause, Davey's my hero. And now he's your hero, too."

* * *

Dave opens his eyes and the heat from the locker room hits full force. He glimpses his reflection in the locker room mirrors. He looks like a fucking zombie, shuffling along on one good leg and dragging the other one—the useless one—behind him.

_Something has changed within me._

Kurt's voice. Clear. Confident.

_Something is not the same._

Mocking.

Karofsky knows even before he turns around that the fashionista has followed him here. Knows that he's wearing that fucked up black jacket and faggy shirt with crappy chandelier shit all over it.

He frowns.

"You're just a scared little ex-jock who can't handle the fact that he's nothing—nothing—if he can't play football."

Kurt's eyes widen as Karofsky's hand lunges forward—realizing even before Dave does what's about to happen. He rips out Kurt's vocal cords. Quickly, decisively, permanently ending the countertenor's hope of ever singing again.

It's a good feeling.

Hell, it's a fucking great feeling.

Until he sees the shimmer of tears in an unexpectedly sympathetic gaze as Kurt lifts his eyes to meet Dave's.

"Feel better?"

The anger dissolves, leaving him drained and sweat soaked. Fuck no, he doesn't feel better. He's crippled them both.

Kurt presses his hand to David's cheek. It surprisingly cool in the stifling heat of the locker room. He turns into Kurt's caress with a relieved sigh. The hand moves to his forehead and lingers, drawing the fever from his body. Then strokes his cheek again.

"Feel better?"

Dave woke. He had to blink twice before realizing that the vision of Kurt at his bedside isn't going away.

"…moy zaichik…"

The endearment whispered in a relieved, grateful sigh. Kurt smiled softly as he dipped a sponge into the nearby basin and held it to the back of Dave's neck, letting the cool water dribble against his hot skin.

"…feels good…"

"You've been running a fever."

Dave nodded, managing to weakly nuzzle his lips against Kurt's wrist. It's the best apology he can offer at the moment.

"You'll feel better after a sponge bath."

Dave closed his eye, another nod, anxious to be rid of his sweat soaked hospital gown.

"Don't be messing with my boy over there, Hummel!"

David smiled at Azimio's protectiveness—a smile that deepened when he heard Kurt's reply.

"I can always come over there and mess with you, Azimio!"

Dave dozed off. When he stirred again, Kurt's hands were in his hair, massaging dry shampoo through it.

"—make your hair nice and fluffy."

"Fluffy is for poodles." He grumbled but secretly loves Kurt's fingers stroking his hair.

"Poodles and invalid jocks who have no say in the matter."

Dave said nothing for a long moment.

"I'll never play football again."

"You could still-"

"What, Kurt? I could still what? Be the Gatorade Gimp Boy for the team? No thanks. 'Sides…Coach already let me go."

"Am I gonna have to cut a bitch?"

David choked back a laugh.

"S'okay. She thought I should get into another sport. Like kayaking." Dave drummed his fingers lightly on the bed, voice softening. "What d'you think?"

He glanced up shyly. And there it was, Kurt realized, the unspoken question about their future. The uncertainty in those eyes—amber under the hospital lights—made his heart ache. Kurt set the basin aside and moved so he could face David fully.

"I think I'm going to look fabulous wearing kayaking haute couture."

The corner of Dave's lips curved into a smile. His eyes were still shadowed, exhausted, but the stress lines around them eased.

"I'm still gonna take you to every city you ever dreamed of."

"I seem to recall there being a bit more to that promise."

Dave laughed softly. "Feeding you all day?"

"No…" Kurt leaned in and kissed him. "Fucking me all night." He whispered huskily as his fingers slowly trailed up David's uninjured thigh.

* * *

**A/N: "Defying Gravity" from the musical "Wicked".**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **First, two apologies. One, I'm sorry it too so long to get this final chapter posted. Thanks for being patient and sticking with the story. And two,I'm sorry about the spoilers for this story in "Bayushki Bayu". It was just something that slipped my mind.

**"Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas.**

* * *

PART 27

**Sachsenhausen, Winter of 1937**

Zarya wiped the sweat from her forehead before stooping to gather the next armful of clothes to be laundered. As one of the newer prisoners—and a Russian—she had been given the task of processing uniforms that had been stripped off the newly dead and preparing them for reissue. She gagged at the foul smell. Blood, piss, vomit and, Zarya turned her head away, this time burned flesh from a failed electrical shock "treatment".

She reached for a shirt. The blood stain was fresh and would be easy to soak clean quickly. She plunged the garment into the icy water and submerged it over and over again until her fingers grew numb with cold and the water turned dark. When she wrung the shirt out for the last time, Zarya saw the pink triangle and recognized the prisoner's number.

_Nikolai._

How long she stood there, shirt clenched in her hands, remembering her brother's last embrace, she never knew. She was alone now. Nothing mattered. A bleak hollowness enveloped her heart and spread through her body leaving her unable to move.

* * *

**Lima Memorial Hospital, Present Day**

Nana Zarya blinked back tears at the final entry she had recreated from Nikolai's diary, her discovery of his death. She flipped through the clean, freshly inked pages of the new journal she had purchased to record the details of Sachsenhausen and was satisfied with her work. Nikolai and Klaus' words had been salvaged along with her own.

She closed the journal and let her thoughts drift back. There had been nothing better to reflect on during the mind numbing weeks at Sachsenhausen than the journal entries. And after Klaus refused to give her Nikolai's diary, Zarya had set herself the goal of memorizing every entry word for word.

"Such sadness on such a lovely face."

Zarya startled at the older gentleman who interrupted her thoughts. He smiled kindly as he offered her his handkerchief to dry her eyes. Blushing, she quickly dabbed her eyes and returned it to him. He settled comfortably into an opposite chair.

"I was hoping to visit Mr. Karofsky. Do you know if he is receiving visitors today?"

Immediately, Zarya raised her chin, her neutral expression quickly turning cool.

"Who are you and what business do you have with my grandson?"

"Your grandson?"

"Did I not say so?"

"Zarya Karofsky."

He spoke her name with a soft note of wonder, as if he couldn't quite believe she was real.

"I am quite certain we have never met." Zarya thudded her cane hard against the floor as she stood to leave. "Whoever you are, you are being quite presumptuous in speaking to me with such familiarity."

"Please, forgive me. I am Karl Heigle. I teach history at William McKinley High School. If I may say so, your grandson is the brightest student I've had in years."

She considered his words carefully before responding.

"Yes, you may say so."

Zarya's wry answer drew a chuckle from Mr. Heigle. She looked him over with a critical eye, silently assessing his reasonably well fitted suit and slight accent. He had stood as soon as he saw her rise which counted favorably towards his manners. And his light blue eyes sparkled, quietly amused, as he patiently endured her scrutiny.

"Well, then—" Mr. Heigle offered Zarya his arm. "—perhaps we can visit Mr. Karofsky together, yes?"

"Unfortunately, David is in therapy at the moment."

"Not so unfortunate, I think."

"No?"

"If it means I may have the pleasure of your company while I wait."

Zarya gave a delicate, noncommittal shrug as she sat down again.

"It is a public hospital."

"So it is."

Karl returned to his seat across from her and engaged Zarya in conversation while they waited.

* * *

**Lima Memorial Hospital, Respiratory Therapy Room**

David was surprised when Fedir showed up to wheel him down to therapy. But the hospital was shorthanded and he had spent so much time checking on Kir and David, most of the staff knew Fedir by name and were happy for the extra help. David tried to make conversation with his older brother but Fedir was quiet and withdrawn, offering only a tight smile and few words.

They entered the therapy room and David grinned when he saw Kir and Puckerman were there and also in wheelchairs. They looked well. The bantering going on between them reassured David that they were recovering from their injuries.

Puck glanced at the breathing apparatus the respiratory therapist had handed him. It had three plastic cylinders with one ball each and a flexible plastic hose attached.

"Tri ball volumetric exerciser."

She explained quickly as she handed additional devices to Kir and David.

Puck glanced at his exerciser, looked over at Kir's single ball version and smirked.

"She gave me three balls."

Kir held his exerciser up for Puck to see. "Mine's bigger."

The therapist rolled her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd had to work with teenagers. Her pager went off, she glanced at it then back to her patients.

"Alright, boys, I need to step out for a minute." She threw Puck a playful warning glance. "Try not to use the equipment for unauthorized purposes, 'kay?"

Puckerman winked at her as she left.

"So…" Kir wheeled around to confront David. "…have you apologized to Nana yet?"

"I'm workin' it."

"Not good enough." Fedir added reproachfully.

"Yo, someone wanna clue me on the family drama?"

"It's nothing." David mumbled.

"Mishka, she was in tears."

Dave flushed, feeling guilty.

"Dude—" Puck was quickly picking up on the situation. "—you made your grandmother cry? Not cool." He glanced at each of the brothers. "What the fuck happened?"

"I kinda dropped the f—bomb on her."

"Actually—" Kir clarified, "—I believe you quite clearly told her to fuck off."

"Seriously, Karofsky, I just wanna punch you in the face right now."

Puckerman wheeled threateningly towards him but Dave managed to turn his wheelchair sideways and block the attack.

"I know! I screwed up, okay? You think I don't feel like shit over it?" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I do."

"Then apologize." Fedir spoke quietly but firmly.

David sighed. "I wanted to get her a present."

Kir nodded his approval.

"But…I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"They never found my wallet." David's voice cracked as he fought to keep from remembering everything that had been done to him. "My cash—atm card—Visa—it's all gone." He fidgeted with his exerciser. "I haven't had a chance to replace everything."

They fell silent, memories of that day still as fresh as their physical injuries.

"I'll cover you." Puck offered suddenly. "I've got my pool money. How much you need?"

"Kurt mentioned a Faberge brooch that Nana admired."

"So—what—fifty, a hundred bucks?"

Dave gave a shaky laugh. "More like five hundred."

Puck let out a low whistle. He had the money but it would make a serious dent in his funds. Then, an idea came to him and broke into a grin. He held out his hand to shake with Dave.

"Done."

"I'm not taking your money, Puckerman."

"I loan you $500, you pay me back." His eyes gleamed. "With stock in Karofsky Caviar."

Kir chuckled, impressed by Puck's offer. "So, there's a brain behind the brawn."

Fedir nudged his twin. "Down, boy."

"Deal." Dave sealed their agreement with a handshake. "Thanks, man."

"Thank me by making me rich."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

They were laughing when the therapist returned to resume their breathing exercises. Puck immediately began flirting again as he waved the volumetric exerciser in his hand.

"So, how does this bad boy work?"

Kir shot him an amused, sidelong glance. "Just wrap your lips around and blow."

For the first time in days, Fedir smiled.

* * *

**Lima Memorial Hospital, Dave's Room**

When Dave and Fedir returned, Azimio was dressed and sitting on his bed, obviously waiting to go home. Dave braked his wheelchair.

"I got this, Fedir."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, thanks. You better go back and make sure Kir and Puck don't kill each other."

Fedir chuckled. "Pretty sure killing him isn't what Kir has in mind."

Dave snorted. "Yeah, well, keep him from doing that, too."

"Kir? Not flirt? You'd have better luck asking him not to breathe!"

Fedir left, leaving Az and Dave in awkward silence.

"So you're outta here, huh?"

"Just waitin' on my Dad."

Dave nodded. Another long pause.

"Az?"

"What?"

"Luke and Zee." Dave bit his lip, fighting back the fear coiling in his gut. "You think…you think they'll be back?"

A sharp laugh burst from Azimio until he saw his best friend's frown and realized he didn't know. Realized that Luke and Zee had to have been on his mind this whole time.

"Fuck, Karofsky, no one told you yet?"

David shook his head.

"Those assholes are still bein' scraped off the highway."

"What?"

"Takin' a dirt nap. Swimmin' with the fishies. Livin' la vida zombie."

"They're-dead?"

"Dead."

Just then, Azimio's dad arrived to take his son home. With a promise to get together soon for an Xbox marathon, David and Azimio said their goodbyes.

Once he was alone, David wheeled into the bathroom. He locked the door and, shaking with relief to know Luke and Zimmerman were no longer a threat to Kurt, he closed his eyes and wept.

* * *

**Lima Memorial, Center For Orthopaedics**

When Kurt had first seen his ankle, he had been convinced it couldn't possibly look any worse. Until today. Once the doctor had removed his splint, Kurt caught an eyeful of purple and green mottled skin with yellow just starting to tinge the edges. He breathed through his mouth, fighting back a sudden surge of nausea. He looked away, wincing as the doctor examined his injury.

Burt caught his eye. "You okay there, kiddo?"

Kurt swallowed hard and nodded. He reminded himself that this was nothing compared to what David was going through. He drew strength from that and resolved to endure the visit without a word of complaint.

Unless they tried to put one of those atrocious Easter egg colored casts on.

Even David hadn't had to endure that indignity.

"Alright, young man." The doctor nodded encouragingly. "I think we're ready to get you in a cast. Sound good?"

"Wonderful." Kurt said without much enthusiasm.

"I'll be back in about fifteen, twenty minutes then we'll get you fixed up and on your way."

Burt waited till the door closed and they were alone before speaking up.

"We need to talk."

"About-?" Kurt asked distractedly as he checked his text messages.

"You and David."

Surprised, Kurt set his phone aside.

"What about us?", he asked, wary.

Burt took off his baseball cap, smoothed a palm over his head and pulled the cap back down low over his eyes.

"You're young, Kurt. Everything that happened—it's a lot for the two of you to handle. No one's gonna think less of you if you're having second thoughts about committing to David for the rest for your life."

"Only a Neanderthal could possibly think-!" Kurt sat up stiffly, arms crossed as he realized. "A Neanderthal." He scoffed, irritated. "David put you up to this didn't he?"

"So? He's not wrong here. If you wanna stay with him out of pity—or guilt—that's not fair to either of you."

Kurt took a deep breath, trying not to lash out at his well-meaning father.

"Dad, you look at me like you would give me the sun and the moon. But David…the way his face lights up…the way he tries so hard not to break into a grin the moment he sees me…" Kurt giggled softly, happy. "David looks at me like I am the sun and the moon." He reached over and squeezed Burt's hand. "It's the same way Mom looked at you." He added quietly.

Burt studied his son's face, seeing beyond his set determination and loyalty to the genuine love shining in his eyes.

"Fair enough. But—" He held up a warning finger. "—from now on, you take care of yourself first."

"David needs me."

"He doesn't need you if you're a liability, Kurt. He's not gonna get any better if he's worrying about you."

Kurt hadn't thought of it that way.

"Your friends are goin' back to school Thursday. He wants you there. If you're up for it."

Kurt nodded. "Fine, I'll be there. But after school, I can still visit him, right?"

"Keep your grades up. Don't stress your ankle. Then yeah, I got no problem with you seeing your boy."

* * *

**Lima Memorial Hospital, Waiting Room**

Some time later, Kir decided he was ready to make the short walk to the waiting room with Fedir to check on Nana Zarya. They both stopped short when they saw their grandmother. Zarya had dozed off, her head resting against the shoulder of a man neither of them recognized.

"Oh…my…God." Kir smirked. "I'd wear the little twink's wretched knockoffs for a week if I only had a camera right now."

"You don't think they're-."

"Let's find out!"

Kir entered as quickly as the i.v. pole he was pulling along allowed. He arched a questioning eyebrow at the gentleman who gazed admiringly at Zarya.

"Hello." Kir purred, intrigued by anything that broke the monotony of the hospital.

Karl nodded. "Hello."

"Karofsky, Kir Paulovitch." He grabbed Fedir's elbow and yanked him forward. "And this is my brother."

"Hi, I'm Fedir."

Kir nudged him. "Now, now, Fedir, don't be rude to Nana's…friend."

"Karofsky, Fedir Paulovitch."

"Karl Heigle. You are David's brothers, yes? And Madame Zarya's grandsons?"

"Yes." Fedir answered, noting the way the man held Zarya's hand in his own as she rested.

"I don't believe Grandmother has ever mentioned you, Mr. Heigle."

Karl chuckled. "I do no not see how that would have been possible, Mr. Karofsky, as we have only just met."

"I…see."

Zarya stirred. It was a moment before she focused on the identical, amused expressions of Kir and Fedir. Another moment before she realized her situation. She quickly sat up with a startled, flustered gasp and began smoothing her hair and straightening her collar.

"My apologies, Mr. Heigle."

He kissed the back of her hand, bringing a flush to Zarya's cheeks.

"I hope you are well rested."

"David is asking for you, Nana." Fedir said, helping her to her feet.

"May I have a moment with my grandson?"

Karl nodded. "Of course. Perhaps I should come back another time?"

Zarya smiled reassuringly. "We will not be long."

She took Fedir's arm. Surprisingly, Kir took her other arm and linked it through his.

"Shall we?"

Zarya was all too familiar with the pleased, smug look on Kir's face. Still, she was grateful that the twins withheld their comments until they reached David's room.

"We would have been here sooner—" Fedir started.

"—but we had to pry Nana away from her new beau." Kir finished.

"Mr. Heigle is hardly my beau."

David glanced up eagerly. "Mr. Heigle's here?"

"Yes, apparently our grandmother has herself a gentleman caller."

Zarya sniffed. "Please, I would never allow a man I have only just met to call on me."

David's eyes sparkled. "Want me to hook you up with him, Nana?"

Zarya eyed him coolly. "As if I need your help to flirt with a man."

Dave laughed at her wry comment.

"Kir, Fedir, take your ill-mannered selves elsewhere."

"Yes, Nana." Kir hugged her on his way out.

"Yes-babushka!"

Fedir ducked in to give his grandmother a quick kiss then quickly darted away before she could scold him.

_Babushka. _

Zarya's heart warmed to hear Fedir say it again. She heard his laughter join Kir's as they reached the nurses' station and could only imagine what gossip they would be starting. She turned to give David her full attention.

"I believe you have something to say to me."

David fidgeted with the small gift box he held.

"You've been my mother and grandmother, Nana. You've raised me more than my own parents have. When I lost football, I thought I'd lost everything. But I didn't. I didn't lose you." David bit his lower lip nervously. "At least, I hope I haven't lost you."

Zarya came to his bedside and quickly kissed him on each cheek. David pulled her into a hug.

"I am so sorry, Nana…please forgive me."

"Foolish boy. As if you would be rid of me so easily."

David let her go then unveiled the brooch and presented it to her. Zarya removed the pin she was wearing and fastened the new jewelry onto her collar.

"Thank you, Mishka."

She took a seat next to his bed.

"And now I hope you will accept my apology, also."

Dave shook his head, puzzled. "There's nothing for you to—"

"Yes, there is. I should never have permitted Kurt to take something of yours without knowing your wishes. I was wrong to do so."

"It's okay."

Zarya drew the newly copied journal from her satchel.

"I have something for you as well."

* * *

_Kurt isn't doing so well._

Dave barely had time to read Mercedes' text before there was a soft knock and Kurt opened the door to his bedroom. Hurriedly, he turned his phone off and set it aside. He flashed a quick smile, hiding his concern.

"Hey, babe."

"I heard you would be coming home today." Kurt hobbled in on his crutches and looked around for an empty space to set the shopping bags he also carried. "I thought you might need a few things." He found a place for the bags. Then, swinging a smaller bag from his fingertips, he turned and walked slowly towards David. "Actually…" Kurt bit his lower lip, glancing up shyly. "…Kir suggested a few things."

"Oh?" Dave grunted as he sat up and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Gimme!" He snatched the bag with one hand and wrapped the other around Kurt's waist, drawing him close. His smile faltered when he realized Kurt had lost weight. Shadows darkened his eyes, changing the blue to a stormy sea green.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dave shook his head. He opened the bag and slowly, eyes widening, pulled out a red satin thong. "Which one of is this supposed to be for?"

Kurt smirked, enjoying the blush deepening across the other teen's face.

"Red really isn't _my_ color, David."

"Uh-huh." Dave rolled his eye.

"Don't worry…" Kurt winked, "…I doubt you'll be wearing them for very long."

David choked back a laugh. "Is that right?"

"I missed you." Kurt set his crutches aside and closed the distance between them. "I've missed this." He wrapped his arms around Dave's neck, pressing his body against his warm, broad shoulders.

David put the thong in the gift bag and set it on his nightstand. He pulled Kurt down into his lap, settling his weight on his right leg, then ran his hand along Kurt's air cast.

"You been staying off your ankle?"

"Of course!"

"Kurt…"

"Mostly." Kurt glanced up, a sudden suspicion crossing his mind. "What about you, David? Have you been using your eye drops?"

"I—was just getting ready to take care of that."

"David…" Kurt laid his palm against his boyfriend's cheek, his expression soft but worried. Immediately, David gripped his wrist, stopping him. "It's okay." Kurt kissed him. "It's okay." Another kiss and David's hold on Kurt eased. He closed his eyes, trembling as Kurt's fingers slid the eye patch off.

For a moment, Kurt said nothing. With both eyelids closed, the only difference Kurt could see on David was the redness and bruising on his left side. Those were from the initial attack, not the surgery.

"Where's your medicine?"

"Mini fridge."

Kurt pressed lightly against David's chest. "Lay down, I'll get them."

"You're not supposed to—"

The fridge was close enough that Kurt was able to stand on his good foot and stretch over to get the eye drops.

"If you would scoot over, I would be able sit down and rest my ankle."

David felt the bed dip as Kurt climbed in and awkwardly moved over to give him room. Kurt waited expectantly.

"David."

"Hm?"

"Open your eyes."

Kurt was firm but not unsympathetic. Nana Zarya and Mr. Karofsky had already told him what to expect. And he had prepared himself with youtube videos and extensive Googling.

"Fine. If you're going to be difficult…" Kurt planted his knee firmly against David's side. "…we'll do this my way." He swung his other leg—cast and all—across David's waist, being very careful not to brush against his injured thigh.

"Wait—what—Kurt!"

David's eyes flew open at the same time that he grabbed Kurt's waist to keep him from falling. He froze when he realized what he had done. When he realized Kurt had a full view of his missing eye.

"Lean back."

Wordlessly, David did as told. He studied Kurt's face, searching for any sign of revulsion. Kurt, quite matter of factly, leaned over to put the eye drops in.

"Three, right?"

"Yeah."

Secretly, Kurt was relieved that David's eye actually looked much better than most of the graphic photos he had studied. Yes, his eye was gone. But there was no gaping, skull like empty socket staring back. Instead, the surgery had left a band of pink tissue covering the area. Dave flinched at the first drop. Kurt tried to be quicker with the last two. He capped the bottle and put it on the nightstand.

David grabbed his eye patch and slid it back on.

"…thanks…"

Kurt tugged the patch to straighten it and smoothed David's hair over the elastic. His fingers lingered in the curls.

"I know, I know, I need a haircut."

"I like it."

"C'mere."

David's hands pressed against the small of Kurt's back, warm and insistent—not that Kurt needed to be persuaded to curl into those arms.

"What's going on, babe?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." Dave took Kurt's hand in his, pressed a kiss to his palm, then held it to his chest, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over his skin. Kurt smiled at the familiar gesture. "Wanna talk about what happened?"

"No."

"I think you need to."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You've lost weight. You look like shit." Dave felt Kurt pull away and, without much effort, held him still. "Don't turn away, Kurt. Not from me."

"I took someone's life."

Kurt's heartbeat pulsed against his skin like a trapped hummingbird.

"No one can change that, David. No one can make that better."

He buried his face deeper into Dave's chest. A desperate, muffled sob escaped as Kurt folded his body into David's.

Dave tilted Kurt's face to his, kissing him lightly. Another kiss, deeper, slower, lips lingering a breath apart. "You chose my life over Gleb's." David's mouth moved to the delicate curve of his cheek, followed it down to his jawline. "If you had to do it again…" His breath was warm against Kurt's ear. "…what would you do?"

"I don't know."

"You do know."

Dave held Kurt's troubled gaze fast with his own, refusing to let him look down or pull away. Gently forcing him to face the truth. His thumb traced Kurt's trembling lips.

"I'd pull the trigger."

Crying, Kurt threw himself against the broader boy and wrapped his arms around David's neck.

"…why?..." David prodded softly, knowing Kurt still needed to take that last step.

"…it was…" Kurt shuddered. "…it was the right thing to do." David tightened his embrace. "I hate this! I hate that he made me—" He broke off again.

Dave said nothing, holding Kurt, rocking him until, emotionally drained, the smaller boy gave in and laid his head against his shoulder. Dave nuzzled his temple.

"Let it go, babe." Kurt sighed, exhausted, eyes starting to close. "The hardest part is over."

* * *

Kurt fidgeted in his seat, trying to settle down before Mr. Heigle started history class. Everyone's phone—including his own—had been burning up with rumors that Dave Karofsky would be coming back to McKinley this week. As his boyfriend, Kurt had naturally assumed that he would be the first to know when David returned. Unfortunately, whenever Kurt pressed him about it, David would only shrug, smile and make a playfully evasive comment about Kurt pining away for him.

10:15. No David. Kurt put his phone away as Mr. Heigle called the class to order.

"Mr. Karofsky—"

Kurt's head snapped up to see David using a walker to shuffle into the classroom.

"—you are late."

"I have a note, Mr. Heigle."

"From your doctor?"

David couldn't keep from grinning. "From my nana."

Mr. Heigle's eyes lit up as he accepted Zarya's note. He scanned it briefly, refolded it and tucked it into his pocket. "So, I am given to understand you are ready to give your presentation, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Heigle slowly looked over the classroom, as if giving the matter serious consideration.

"I suppose if your classmates would prefer your presentation to a surprise quiz—"

"YES!"

Mr. Heigle chuckled at the enthusiastic outburst from his students. He nodded to David as he took an empty seat in the front row.

"Whenever you are ready, Mr. Karofsky."

David took some items from the book bag on his walker and set them on the podium. Then, straightening his shoulders, he began.

"I'm Dave Karofsky…and I'm gay."

He waited for the murmuring to quiet down before continuing.

"If I had said those words in Berlin in 1936, I would have been thrown in jail. Or killed like my great uncle, Nikolai Karofsky."

David stepped out from the podium so his classmates had a clear view. He unzipped the pants leg of his convertible khakis to show the scar on his left thigh. And then he removed his eye patch.

"Today, seventy-five years later, in the U.S., being gay still almost got me killed."

He picked up materials from the podium and handed them to Kurt.

"In 1936, it was the S.S. persecuting gays. In 2011, it's S.S.A.A. and other groups just like them."

Kurt was surprised to see that David had handed him his wristband, attendance booklet and workbook from S.S.A.A. along with S.S. propaganda.

"Would you pass these out for me?"

Kurt nodded. Then he sat back and watched the rest of David's speech, glowing with pride over every word.

* * *

Eventually, David was fitted with a prosthetic eye. Kurt no longer needed his cast. Sometimes they talked about what happened. Sometimes they were just grateful to fall back into the predictable monotony of daily life at McKinley.

David followed Kurt as fast as he could, trying to hurry to the gym before the convocation started. He groaned when they finally reached the assembly. They were the last ones to arrive. He blushed, feeling like every student was watching him as Kurt walked him past the first set of bleachers. He didn't realize at first what was happening. He heard the thud of students coming to their feet. Then the first, tentative sound of clapping that quickly swelled into a roar of applause.

"Fuck, we're late!"

Dave grumbled under his breath, irritated that his leg had slowed them down.

Kurt smiled mischievously.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Is that your dad?"

"Hm, I believe it is."

"What's he doing here? Why is he up there with Principal Figgins?"

"I'm sure we'll find out."

"Kurt, hold up."

David stopped, holding on to the walker with one hand and grabbing Kurt's arm with the other.

"Yes?"

David searched his face, trying to decipher Kurt's unreadable expression.

"Did you win an award or something?"

A secretive smile played across Kurt's lips.

"Or something."

"Hey." David took Kurt's hand in his. "Whatever it is, you deserve it." He looked around at the standing ovation. "You deserve all of this." He squeezed his hand. "Whenever you have a moment to shine, you take it, babe. No apologies. No second guessing yourself."

Kurt nodded, moved by the open admiration on his boyfriend's face. And by the fact that David genuinely had no idea that all of this was for him.

They reached the center of the gym and David eyed the bleacher steps, heart sinking as he realized the only empty seats were in the upper rows.

"I'm never gonna make those stairs."

Kurt feigned surprise as he steered David towards a row of chairs placed front and center in front of the bleachers.

"Oh, look, here's a spot." He smirked. "How convenient!"

David stopped short when he saw his family sitting on either side of an empty chair.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt helped him the last few feet to his seat.

"Sit down, David." Kurt winked playfully over his shoulder. "I'm taking my moment to shine."

The lights dimmed. A spotlight snapped on just as Kurt reached his mark and turned to face the audience. But the first verse, sung with slow deliberation, was all for David.

_Let it go,_

_Let it roll right off your shoulder._

_Don't you know,_

_the hardest part is over?_

Mercedes stepped up to sing the next verse as the rest of New Directions took their places behind her. Dave couldn't help smiling as he listened to the lyrics. He caught Kurt watching him and knew the irony wasn't lost on him, either. They shared a moment in silence, remembering Klaus and Kolya. The rest of the glee club joined in as the tempo became more upbeat.

_Our lives are made_

_in these small hours._

_These little wonders,_

_these twists and turns of fate._

_Time falls away,_

_but these small hours,_

_these small hours still remain._

Principal Figgins thanked New Directions, made a brief announcement dedicating the assembly to Dave Karofsky and then turned the mike over to Coach Beiste. It was hard for David to listen. Her praise for his athleticism only served as a painful reminder that he would never play with his football team again.

"David…" Paul spoke softly, nudging him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry."

Dave gave Coach a shaky smile, trying to appreciate her good intentions.

Coach Beiste motioned to Finn and Puck who stepped forward carrying a framed football jersey.

"So, in honor of Dave Karofsky's contributions, the McKinley Titans have unanimously voted to permanently retire jersey number 67."

"…what?..."

Dave's mouth opened in surprise. He caught Kurt nodding his head towards his dad and knew then that Burt Hummel must have suggested this. Retiring his football jersey.

Finn grinned as they carried the jersey over and presented it to Dave.

"No one else deserves to wear it, dude."

Speechless, he could only say "thank you" with a nod.

"You don't get any prizes for being a jerk."

David looked up, surprised. Burt Hummel had taken Coach Beiste's place at the mike and his first words captured everyone's attention.

"There aren't any awards for screwing up. No scholarships for the number of locker shoves completed or long distance slushie throwing."

Dave couldn't keep a guilty blush from warming his cheeks. Burt paused, letting his words sink in.

"Until now."

A murmur went through the students.

"High school isn't about being perfect. Or smart. Or athletic. It's about growing up. It's about getting stuff wrong—really wrong, sometimes—and using those experiences to make you a better person. And when someone achieves that goal, that deserves recognition."

Dave caught Kurt's puzzled look and realized he had no idea what his dad was doing, either.

"Hummel Tires and Lube is proud to be the founding sponsor of the Spirit of McKinley Scholarship Award."

Burt stepped aside and let Principal Figgins take over again.

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

Burt picked up something from his chair then walked towards Dave as Figgins continued in the background.

"The Spirit of McKinley consists of a $500 scholarship to be awarded annually to the McKinley senior who has been nominated by the student body and faculty as the most improved student based on attitude and personal achievement. In addition, the winner's name will be inscribed on an award plaque to be prominently displayed in the trophy case."

David hesitated to accept the check and plaque Burt pressed into his hands.

"I don't deserve this."

Burt glanced over at Nana Zarya sitting next to David.

"Tell him not to argue with his elders…and take the damn check."

Zarya chuckled. She laid a hand over her grandson's forearm, preventing him from giving the check back to Burt. "Do not embarrass me by being rude, Mishka."

David shifted uncomfortably, caught between his own feelings and his grandmother's words. Burt smoothed over the awkwardness by clapping one hand on his shoulder and gripping his other hand in a firm handshake.

"I'm really proud of you, kiddo."

Dave smiled, secretly pleased more by Burt's praise than any award or recognition he could have ever received.

"—present the first recipient of the Spirit of McKinley Scholarship Award—" Figgins' voice filled the auditorium. "—Dave Karofsky!"

* * *

**Sachsenhausen, Summer of 2019**

They stood in the Appelplatz, silent, respectful of the tragic history that had affected their own lives so personally. David shivered and clasped Kurt's arms to pull them closer around his body.

"Hold me."

"I'm holding you."

"Tighter." Dave whispered, snuggling into Kurt's embrace and breathing in his boyfriend's sun warmed skin. Kurt's body tightened against his, holding him fast as if he'd never let go.

He thought of Klaus and Kolya. Silently, he hoped wherever they were that they could see this moment. He counted it as a small victory to be standing here, in Sachsenhausen, embracing the man he loved without fear of being killed.

* * *

**Klein's Bakery, Berlin, Summer of 2019**

David studied the old photographs on the wall, a record not only of the bakery's history but of Berlin's past as well. He was totally oblivious to Kurt's frequent, admiring glances, assuming his boyfriend was intent on selecting a pastry…not possessively ogling him. He reached the last framed photo. After reading the caption, he straightened and scanned the small bakery for Kurt. He was surprised to see him still at the counter.

David slipped his hands around Kurt's hips and leaned his chin on Kurt's shoulder.

"Problem?"

"I can't decide between the Streuselkuchen and the Bienenstich."

"Get 'em both."

Kurt pretended to be horrified. "Do you have any idea of what that will do to my hips?"

"Get one of each and we'll share."

"And by share you mean I get two bites and you get the rest."

"Works for me. You get to keep your boyish figure." Dave playfully slapped Kurt's ass. "I get to feed my manly appetite."

"Mm, we'll discuss your manly appetite back to the hotel."

Dave kissed his neck. "Better get those to go then."

"Definitely."

Kurt placed his order. A moment later, the clerk handed him the credit receipt to sign. He paused only a moment before signing. Dave, watching over his shoulder, chuckled.

"What's that?"

"I'm practicing."

He smiled at his signature.

_Kurt Hummel Karofsky._

* * *

**Red Square, Moscow, Summer of 2019**

St. Basil's Cathedral was a colorful backdrop to the crowd gathered around the Place of the Brow in Red Square. For centuries, the Brow had served as the dais for declarations and important announcements. Today was no exception. The tension in the air mounted as the leader of the group finally succeeded in quieting them down enough to read the words many of them thought they would never hear.

They had waited years for this moment.

Kurt didn't understand the Russian, but when David's arm tightened around his shoulders, when he saw the tears on his cheek and felt the tremble of his hand in his as his grip tightened, he knew.

Moscow had legalized gay marriage.

"GOLUBOI!"

A thousand voices shouted as one. Kurt's throat tightened with emotion, remembering the shame that word had once carried in a Cleveland restaurant long ago. And now, in Red Square, it was a cry of triumph for the gay and lesbian activists of Russia.

"Come on!"

Without warning, David grabbed Kurt's hand and started pushing through the crowd until they reached the front. He yelled something in Russian to the GLBT activists. They yelled back, cheering and applauding. Before Kurt knew it, David was pulling him up the few stairs onto the Brow.

He broke from Kurt, went down on one knee and fumbled in his pocket for the jewelry box he'd been carrying with him since their trip had started, waiting for this place and this moment to propose. He took Kurt's hand in his, looked deeply into those sea green eyes…and forgot every word of his carefully memorized speech.

"You…me…wedding?" Dave finally managed to get out.

Kurt was speechless. Since he was a child, he had imagined his marriage proposal down to every precise, exquisite detail many times. Not once had he envisioned that proposal taking place at such a historic moment in front of an international audience.

He quirked an eyebrow, considering. It was certainly unique. And memorable. Slowly, his lips curved upward.

And it would top anything Finn could come up with for Rachel.

Kurt threw himself into David's arms with delighted shriek.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, David Paulovich Karofsky, I will marry you."

Someone translated his answer into Russian for the crowd and another cheer went up.

Kurt wiggled his fingers anxiously in David's face.

"Put the damn ring on my finger already!"

Nervously, David slipped the ring onto Kurt's hand. "If you don't like it—"

Kurt immediately cut him off. "Tiffany's 1837 ring in sterling silver and midnight titanium." Beaming, he held his hand up to admire the engagement ring. "What's not to love?"

"Uh…actually…I asked them to change the silver to platinum. And added a diamond." Dave smiled. "Hope you don't mind."

Kurt's eyes widened, suddenly realizing he was wearing a custom made Tiffany ring. He pulled his boyfriend—correction, fiancee—down for a kiss.

After David's proposal, several more couples crowded to the front, all wanting the same opportunity to use the Place of the Brow for their own engagements.

* * *

Kurt and David stepped down. They made their way through the crowd, accepting handshakes and congratulations from dozens of strangers. Eventually, they found a clear space to catch their breaths. They shared a look—then both started laughing at the same time, caught up in the wonderful, exuberant madness of the moment.

David swept Kurt into his arms, spinning him around before setting him back down.

"So, now what?"

Kurt scanned the square. "I think we've seen everything here?" He pulled out his tourist map. "Oh…wait…" He bit his lip, then continued softly. "…there's the Sachsenhausen memorial. We don't have to—"

"I'd like to see it." Dave decided, firmly putting Kurt's doubts to rest.

The memorial was incorporated into the Kremlin Wall Necropolis behind Lenin's Mausoleum and an easy walk from St. Basil's and the Brow. They found it quickly and climbed the short grey steps to where the bronze engraving had been installed in the red brick behind a bust of Stalin.

"David, is that-?"

"Nikolai."

They gazed in silence, overwhelmed. The Sachsenhausen Memorial dominated the wall, stretching from one corner to the other for several yards. Front and center was the life sized figure of Nikolai Petrovich Karofsky. Kurt blinked back tears. Nikolai was wearing the coat he had never worn in life…even down to the little gosling carved into the top button.

David straightened from where had been examining the artist's signature in the lower right-hand corner.

"This is Klaus' work."

Kurt nodded. "I know."

Hundreds of figures stood on either side of Nikolai. Each one engraved with precise detail. They read the bottom of the plaque and soon realized that every Russian who had died at Sachsenhausen had been included.

They watched as the setting sun literally transformed the memorial, the deepening shadows changing it from a moving tribute to a stark, breathtaking reminder of Sachsenhausen. Abstract stars became barbs on a wire fence stretching across the figures. Solemn smiles turned haunting as their gazes darkened. Every line had been placed just so to interact with the light; every detail carved with an artisan's eye and a careful hand.

Kurt intertwined his fingers with David's.

"This must have taken a lifetime."

He whispered, hesitant to break the stillness of the moment.

David nodded. "It'll last a lifetime...and longer."

Kurt turned away from Klaus' engraving to look at their joined hands.

"True love always does."

David looked into Kurt's eyes for a long moment before breaking into a smartass grin.

"Wuv, twu wuv."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You are _never_ watching 'The Princess Bride' again."

David chuckled. "C'mon, we're gonna be late."

"For-?"

"You wanted to see the Bolshoi Theater at sunset, remember?"

"Do we have enough light left?"

"We'll make it—" David winked. "—even if I have to carry you!"

"You would…Neanderthal." Kurt added affectionately under his breath as he quickened his steps to keep up with his fiancee's long strides.

"Oh, look, the Metropol Hotel!"

"No time, Kurt."

"But—!"

Kurt made a mental note to make sure they came back to the Metropol during the day when he would have plenty of time to admire the remarkable architecture. And then, before he realized it, they were standing at the fountain in front of the Bolshoi, watching the audience gather for the evening performance.

He looked up at David hopefully. "Do you think we can still get tickets?"

"Mm, maybe." David reached into his pocket. "Or we could use the ones I already have." He playfully held the tickets just out of Kurt's reach. "L'après-midi d'un faune."

"Impressive, I actually understood your French…in spite of the atrocious accent."

"You're gonna insult the man holding your ticket to the Bolshoi?"

Kurt slipped his arm into his David's with a flirty smile. "Did you really get us tickets to see 'Afternoon of a Faun?'"

"Mm-hmm."

"David?"

"Yes?"

"If I say I'm sorry, may we please go to the ballet?"

"That's not much of an apology, babe."

"What if I say I have chilled caviar waiting for us back at our hotel room?"

Dave laughed at Kurt's attempted wheedling. "I own a caviar company, remember?"

"Yes, but what if I say that we don't have anything to serve the caviar on…except me."

He let Dave think about that as he trailed his fingers across his throat and down the open vee of his shirt.

David licked his lips, wishing they had skipped the Bolshoi and gone back to their room instead. He hugged Kurt to his side and guided him across the plaza to the theater's main entrance. David showed their tickets, accepted the two programs and led Kurt down the center aisle to their seats. He loved seeing Kurt's eyes light up with wonder as he took in the magnificent ceiling and decorated balconies.

Finally, they sat down and Kurt had a chance to glance at his program. He didn't need to read Russian to recognize the principal dancer for the evening.

He was the internationally renowned bad boy of ballet himself.

Kurtofsky.

THE END

* * *

**A/N:** "Thank you" doesn't even begin to convey how much I appreciate each and every one of you. I'd have to add another chapter to recognize everyone who has supported and promoted "Paragraph 175".

Still, thank you to all of the **tumblr Pirates** who have done SO much word of mouth publicity for me; to **pink-mama** and **previouslysane **for contributing their beautiful artwork; **Tsormick** for offering to be my beta; **lizzypoodle**, **Piper** and **cornflakesareglutenfree** for helping me with parts I had doubts about and **Ella Greggs** for catching a historical mistake.

Thank you to **The First Mrs. Hummel** and **Lucy Hale** for keeping me inspired with their incredible writing.

And thanks to **JasonDragon64** and **debraelq **and many otherswho have followed me through several stories now.

There are so many of you whose words have made me laugh and cry. I'm humbled that, hopefully, I was able to treat the Holocaust with the sensitivity and respect it deserves yet at the same time not sugarcoat what happened.

I'm planning to rewrite Klaus and Kolya's story into a stand-alone novel and self-publish on Amazon. I'm on tumblr as rubylis and on twitter as rubylis1 if you'd like to check on the progress and purchase a copy when it becomes available.

Finally, I am now able to catch up on my reading! I hope all of you will check out these stories, too:

**Fatal Kiss by The First Mrs. Hummel**

**The Kurtofsky Drabbles by cornflakesareglutenfree**

**Days Are Long by Tsormick**

**Counters by Louise Strange**

It's been a long, wonderful, amazing adventure. Thanks for letting me share it with you.


	28. Chapter 28

Note: Paragraph 175 the Kindle version is now available on Amazon. I hope to have a paperback version available soon. To celebrate, here's a bonus scene of Klaus and Dach's first encounter. I originally posted it on tumblr, but I think a lot of people haven't read it yet.

* * *

**Mature content warning: raoe **

**The Eldorado Nightclub, Berlin, New Year's Eve, 1932**

If he had been less lonely, or less intoxicated, Klaus' initial revulsion to Dachs being a member of the Nazi party would have been enough to dissuade him from pursuing a liaison with the handsome stranger. Dachs' gaze held his, steady, expectant. One hand still gripped Klaus' hip. The other hand pressed firmly against the back of his neck, a subtle pressure as Dachs drew him closer for a kiss.

The raucousness of New Year's Eve in the Eldorado mixed with the pleasant buzz from the absinthe encouraged Klaus to reckless abandon. He gave himself over to Dachs. To his surprise, the other man was quite experienced. Klaus moaned as Dach's lips and tongue teased his mouth then skillfully trailed down to fasten in the hollow of his throat. Dachs pulled back, eyeing Klaus with a triumphant smirk. "It appears I have taken the edge off your sharp tongue."

Klaus rolled his hips against Dachs, his arousal obvious. "You have not yet taken the edge off of everything."

"Mm, perhaps we should get a room," Dachs murmured as he reached down to palm Klaus' erection.

Klaus glanced over, realizing then that they had already reached one of the special rendezvous rooms discreetly hidden throughout the Eldorado. He allowed Dachs to pull him inside. He closed the door behind them. Before he knew it, Dachs had removed Klaus' tie, shrugged his coat off and, before he could protest, yanked his shirt open, buttons popping loose and scattering on the floor in the process.

Dachs bit into the curve of Klaus' shoulder. He gasped. Immediately, though, Dachs darted his tongue over the area, quick, soothing flicks to ease the pain. Klaus' initial wariness faded. There was a possessive, predatory look in Dachs' deep blue eyes that hinted at something uncontrolled and wild but to Klaus, it was all part of the game. Some men preferred rougher sex. Tonight, Klaus was willing to indulge. Dachs stripped them both naked then shoved Klaus face down on the bed, climbing over him and pinning him to the mattress. Klaus shivered with pleasure as Dachs' bare skin covered his. He cried out when Dachs marked the back of his neck. This. This was what Klaus wanted to experience. The feeling of being dominated and desired.

Dachs kicked Klaus' thighs apart and Klaus tensed. Manhandling and love nips were one thing but being entered without preparation was another. "Dachs?" He felt Dachs start to push in and recoiled. "Wait-stop-I am not ready!"

"I am." Dachs grabbed the back of Klaus' throat, choking him and shoving his face into the pillow at the same time. Alarmed, Klaus bucked to get him off. The harder he struggled, the more Dachs' hold on him tightened. Klaus felt consciousness slipping away. He forced himself to relax, go limp, hoping that Dachs would loosen his grip.

It worked.

As soon as Dachs' hands released his throat and moved to his thighs, Klaus reacted. He twisted around, slamming his shoulder into Dachs' mouth then followed through by throwing his elbow squarely in the center of his chest to throw him off balance. Once Klaus managed to free himself, he raced for the door. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough.

Dachs lunged for Klaus, fisted his hand in his hair then jerked his head back. The pain forced Klaus to his knees. Dachs bent him over, again spread his thighs then mounted him. Again, Klaus resisted. Ruthlessly, Dachs overpowered him. He held Klaus immobile, aroused by the mewling, pleading noises he made as he drove into him, riding him hard against the creaking floorboards.

Dachs reached underneath them to stroke Klaus. "…no…" Klaus bit back tears, humiliated when his body responded. Against his will, he couldn't help thrusting hard into Dach's hand gripping him in front and arching against his hips riding him from behind.

Klaus cried out in frustration. He managed to wriggle his hands from under his body and tried to use the floor for leverage and push himself up. Dachs slammed him down, one hand stretched Klaus' wrists over his head while his chest and legs still pinned him down. Only Dachs' hips moved. Pushing in and out, relentlessly deepening his penetration with each stroke. He shifted his position slightly. This time, he hit the sensitive point and Klaus shuddered. Dachs laughed, pleased. "You liked that, yes?"

"No!"

"Liar." Dachs squeezed Klaus', pumping firmly, his own excitement mounting as Klaus' body tensed beneath his. "You are close, I think." Klaus shook his head. Dachs kissed the back of Klaus' neck. "Such a pretty…tight…little liar." He licked the already bruising skin from where he had bitten him the first time, then bit him again. Klaus moaned beneath him. Dachs felt the other man jerk and spasm as he came. It was enough to send Dachs over the edge as well.


End file.
